


Making Up For Lost Time

by StrangerZ



Category: Z Nation (TV)
Genre: Almost a canon, Almost an OC, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anxiety, Awkward Boners, Background Addison Carver/ Cassandra, Background Addison Carver/ Mack Thompson, Background Relationships, Bisexual Addison Carver, Bisexual Male Character, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Comic Book Science, Digital Art, Doc & Warren were in Sharknado, F/F, Found Family, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Literal Mindfuckery, M/M, Murphy (Z Nation) Being an Asshole, Not Beta Read, Original Character Death(s), Panic Attacks, Pseudoscience, Recreational Drug Use, References to Drugs, Same Universe As Sharknado, Vaguely Referenced Canons Are My Favorite, Weird Abilities, What-If, Zombie Immunity, Zombies, mindfuckery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-09
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:15:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 30,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23556670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrangerZ/pseuds/StrangerZ
Summary: Doc had a son when he was nineteen, and he always meant to reach out to him (referenced in Full Metal Zombie). Steve is in his thirties now, and one of two survivors of experimental vaccines for the zombie virus. Things might be okay, if they can survive this.Bonus digital character art at the beginning of Chapter 6 (Steve) and Chapter 7 (10K & Jameson).
Relationships: 10K & Doc (Z Nation), 10K (Z Nation)/Original Male Character(s), Doc (Z Nation) & Doc's Son, Doc's Son/Murphy (Z Nation), Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 36
Kudos: 29





	1. Die A Little

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steven Beck Jr, Murphy, as well as several other prisoners are being subject to experimental vaccines in a last ditch effort to save humanity, even as Portsmouth is overrun by zombies.

Steve woke up strapped to a table, head aching. They must have knocked him out to get him in here. In hindsight, he shouldn’t have fought his captors so hard, but he had to try. He didn’t want to die in this place. He didn’t want to die at all.

People were talking, but he couldn’t focus on their words – his eyes were on the needles. _Last chance. New strains._ He shook his head, trying to get air into his lungs. He had to ignore them. He needed to breathe or his spiking anxiety would turn into a panic attack. Deep breaths. Let them out, slowly.

This was how he was going to die.

Strangely enough, that thought was calming. If he struggled, they’d knock him out again, and he wouldn’t even have these last few moments. He didn’t regret anything- he’d done what he had to. He’d do it again. He just wished he hadn’t been caught. Still, it was worth it, even now, because he’d been able to get the warning out back when the government was trying to keep the outbreak hushed up.

 _They don’t look like volunteers to me._ It was someone new, a soldier. Momentary hope spiked in his throat, making him desperate again. Hope. The prospect of hope made him desperate.

“Not, not a volunteer,” Steven managed to say, cut off immediately by the doctor yelling that _millions of people were dying for no reason, that they were going to die to find a vaccine, that one of them might outlive them all._

Another man, strapped down next to him, asked _why she doesn’t take it then_ , and Steve thought he had a fucking point. None of them were doing it. Just these men that didn’t have a choice. He didn’t- he wanted to help people, but not like this. Hell, if they’d asked he might have, he might have agreed, but now he would fight tooth and nail if it didn’t feel like he’d be sick if he got off the table he was strapped to. Concussion, probably, his mind absently supplied as he watched as they administered trial vaccines to the first two prisoners.

_We can’t stop yet! This is our last chance to test the new strains!_

Screaming turned to noise. White noise. Men screaming and dying and rising and dying again. And then, it was his turn. The other vaccines were blue or green, he couldn’t tell. It was too dark. The fluid they were injecting into him looked lighter, definitely blue. Something different? He opened his mouth to ask about it, even as the fluid in the IV reached his arm.

Instead of asking, he screamed in pain, arching back. His head hit the back of the table, and everything went dark again. Just for a moment, maybe longer.

* * *

He woke up to the sounds of a helicopter. His vision was fuzzy, but the last prisoner was yelling something. His voice brought Steve ‘round.

_Don’t leave me!_

Steve turned toward him, vision slowly clearing. Sure enough, the doctor and the remaining soldier were abandoning them, leaving the two of them strapped down.

_Don’t let me turn, you bastard!_

No. No, no, no, NO! He tried to call out, but he was having difficulty forcing his tongue to work. He couldn’t move, even if he wasn’t strapped down. Like sleep paralysis, but he hadn’t fallen asleep. He’d bashed his head, again. If he hadn’t had a concussion, that would’ve done it.

_Pike me!_

His hands finally moved, and he plucked at the straps holding him down. They were strong, but he had some experience with much more complicated straps than these. He just needed to get his body to obey him.

_Pike me or I will hunt you down and eat your brains!_

“Wait-” he called out weakly, but the doctor and the solider were gone. He’d have to get out of here without them. He struggled to work the buckles, confined as he was. He could do this, and he’d get himself and his fellow prisoner out of here. He didn’t need them.

Only now, there were zombies streaming into the room. Past him. They all went past him, to the screaming man, and his screams changed in pitch and intensity. They became something truly terrible. The last strap finally came undone. He tried to wrench himself upright and fell of the table. He landed next to a dead man – properly dead, shot right between the eyes.

There were fallen surgical instruments everywhere. He grasped one and struggled to his feet. This was not sleep paralysis. It felt like it at first, but it wasn’t- he’d usually be alright once he could move again. This lingered. It was whatever they’d injected him with, bastards.

The zombies were still tearing into his fellow prisoner – patient – lab rat. He stabbed the closest one in the back of the skull, and still the others took no notice of him. Mechanically, he stabbed the next zombie through the ear, pulled out the makeshift weapon, and pushed the zombie down. Next. A zombie was tearing into the man’s ribs. Bile rose to the back of Steve’s throat, and he forced it down as he reached across the table to grab the Z and stab it through one of its filmy eyes.

Gun shots rang out, and he froze in place. Zombies fell to the ground around him. The solider from before had returned and was aiming the gun at him. Steven raised his hands above his head, dropping the makeshift weapon automatically.

“You died,” the solider stated roughly, before looking down at the injured man.

Oh. Oh no. Steve turned to the man, still strapped down, twisting in absolute agony. Shit. He didn’t look too good. Understatement of the year. He was horrified the man was still alive despite the way the zombies had ripped him open, but he couldn't help but be relieved that he wasn’t the only one of that doctor’s experiments to survive.

“Guess I got better,” Steve muttered. Of course he hadn’t died. He was standing right there, breathing and everything. Talking. Not eating either of their faces. Alive. He was alive, wasn’t he? He could feel his head throbbing, and his muscles protesting, pain meant he was alive. These zombies didn’t feel anything, did they?

“I should put him out of his misery,” the solider said abruptly, but he didn't aim his gun at the man's head yet. He was waiting for something. For him to turn? Or to find out if the vaccine worked? 

The injured man on the table struggled against his bonds. “I haven’t turned yet,” he protested, not so ready to be piked while he still breathed. Not now that it was likely to actually happen. 

“He isn’t going to, I think,” Steven interjected, suddenly certain of it. If he had been going to change, it would have happened already. “W-we need to stop the bleeding, though.”

“We don’t have time for this, we need to get out of here,” the solider argued, reaching out to grab Steven. Steve scrambled out of his reach and grabbed bandages and anything that he recognized as wound care. He wasn’t exactly – he definitely wasn’t a doctor – but he knew some first aid.

The solider swore and took out more Z’s as Steve quickly cleaned up and bandaged the other surviving patient- _experiment_. “We need to get out of here. Now. My men are waiting-”

“Lead the way, then,” Steven snapped back. He felt better. He was breathing better, he could move better. His body ached, his head ached fiercely, but it was better than numbness. It meant he was alive.

The solider took the other man and slung him over his shoulders, and Steven stumbled along behind them. He just had to keep moving. They were able to meet up with the surviving soldiers, but the doctor and the helicopter was gone. The other survivor had passed out, pain or blood loss, but his breathing remained steady. He didn’t turn.

It was nightmarish trying to get out of Portsmouth. It was overrun with the dead. Steven staggered after the soldiers breathlessly while the zombies came at them endlessly. They didn’t seem to notice him. The undead wandered past him, intent on their victims.

_‘You died.’_

Maybe he did. Maybe he was like them, but- if he was, why did he hurt?

Why did his muscles ache and his lungs burn?

Maybe the vaccine worked. He could believe it, after he’d fallen and the z’s streamed past him after the soldiers. He stayed prone on the ground at first, too afraid that if he moved, they’d turn on him. The soldiers moved on – and didn’t seem to notice that he wasn’t with them. That first soldier must’ve had his hands full with the injured man, and the others cared more about keeping themselves alive than their prisoners.

Eventually, Steven gathered the courage to stand up. He walked slowly, hesitant, but the Z’s paid no attention. All those Z’s were between him and the soldiers, but maybe they’d wander off before he caught up.

Maybe he wouldn’t catch up. There was no one to stop him running off, back home- but how was he supposed to get across the country on his own? Even if the Z’s no longer wanted his brains, that didn’t mean the living would leave him alone. If he went back to them, he’d be at their mercy for whatever experiments were to come. So was that other guy, if he survived.

He felt an odd tugging, the way they’d gone. He didn’t have to do it. He didn’t. He could go anywhere now. He just didn’t know where. He followed after them, in vaguely the same direction they’d taken. They could go faster than he could, but the Z’s left him alone. They’d have to fight or avoid them, and he could just walk through them.

It gave him the creeps, but he didn’t have the energy to put in the extra work to avoid them. He had to catch up to them before they took an unexpected turn or something.

* * *

Hours later, he realized that they must’ve turned somewhere. He was never going to find them, but he kept on moving. He couldn’t sleep, not with what was very likely a concussion, and if he stopped to rest he’d fall asleep. Probably never wake up. He’d keep moving, get as far as he could away from Portsmouth.

His steps slowed as he walked along an empty expanse of road. The woods were dark, quiet, and he had an irresistible urge to go hiking through them. Why-

He smelled smoke. Very faintly, he heard voices. It couldn’t be them. He crept into the woods anyway, hoping he could see who it was before they could see him. If it was them, he could move on, and if it was a friendly looking group of survivors, maybe they’d let him travel with them for a while.

Sitting around a small fire, there was less than half the men they’d left with. The one who’d found them was alive, though, and it looked like his fellow experiment wasn’t dead yet. Steve hesitated. He could go, it wasn’t too late.

“He was right with you, what happened to him?” the first solider was grilling one of his men.

“Hey, I barely made it out myself, he fell-”

“You saw him fall, and you did nothing? He is one of two people that could save humanity, and this one doesn’t look like he’ll last the night- if he dies, if they both die, it doesn’t matter if the Z’s get us now. It doesn’t matter if any one of us survive if they die, because their survival is the survival of humanity. And their death is the end of humanity. Got it?”

“That's pretty intense,” Steven said from the shadows outside the firelight, and suddenly several guns were aimed in his direction. He raised his hands again, staying very still. “Uh, if what you said was true, probably not a good idea to aim deadly weapons at me, yeah?”

“Lower your weapons!” the first solider snapped, then to Steve added irritably, “Get over here.”

Soon enough he was sitting close to the fire, given rations, and listening to the solider – Mark Hammond – chew out the man that was supposed to be on watch. If Steve could wander into their camp, a Z certainly could, or some desperate civilian. It wasn’t that long since black summer, and food was still scarce.

Steve had his misgivings about this, he really did, but he believed that Hammond believed in it. If they really were the only hope for humanity, he’d risk it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I used to write fanfiction, a long time ago. I'm a little rusty, but it looks like I'm back!
> 
> Please be gentle.
> 
> *Update* Added a quick portrait of Steven to Chapter 6. Any art shared is mine and also available on my various social media @ trisfinn


	2. From Nowhere to Nowhere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The saviors of humanity have been left to their own devices while Hammond went out on recon, leaving behind a pair of his men as guards. It's all fun and games until someone gets bitten.

Steve was pretty sure that Murphy wasn't going to turn. If it had been going to happen, it would have happened rather quickly. He'd seen a lot of that over the past few days. Some people died and turned quickly, some took a little longer, but none held on as long as Murphy did after being bitten. The experimental vaccine had made him immune. Well, Murphy's did. They couldn't be so sure with Steve's, but hey - at least the Zs weren't after him. 

After he'd been left behind that first day, Hammond made sure to keep Steven close - most of the time. At the moment, he was out on recon, with his men guarding the house where he'd left Steve and Murphy holed up. He wasn't going to lose track of him again. It might have felt nice having someone look out for him if it wasn't completely obvious it was just because the man was on a mission. That was all that mattered to him. He was the same way about Murphy, now that it was clear he wasn't going to turn. 

It wasn't so clear whether Murphy was going to make it or not. His wounds were terrible, and even if he was immune to the zombie virus, the rotting mouths of the dead were filthy. Steve had been sure the wounds would go septic, but they just... didn't. He didn't die, he didn't turn despite being bitten eight times. Eight times. The image of them tearing into Murphy was probably permanently seared into his mind.

Steven grimaced. 

"You don't look too hot yourself, blondie," the man in question grumbled from where he was sprawled out on the bed.

Steve realized he'd been staring at him while zoning out. He shrugged and went to the window, looking out from the side so his outline wouldn't be visible outside to man or Z. It looked like most of Hammond's surviving team were out scavenging supplies, leaving just a pair of men of them to guard the two of them. He wasn't sure whether they were there to protect them or to keep them from sneaking off.

Well, to keep him from sneaking off. Murphy still wasn't up to doing much besides complain. 

It was grating, but Steve couldn't blame him. Murphy had gotten the short end of the stick. Maybe. Steve couldn't be sure he was actually immune. If he died he might turn. If he somehow got infected despite the Z's apparent disinterest, he might still turn. That was more of an other people problem. Sure it sucked, but he'd be dead anyway. He just didn't have to be scared of them the way Murphy did. He didn't have to live with those wounds.

If it all went to shit, he would probably make it on his own. That was, if he didn't starve, and if other humans didn't kill him.

He wasn't so sure Murphy would make it without someone watching his back, even after he healed from all this. 

After a few moments, he belatedly said, "Sorry. Got lost in my head."

Murphy gave him a long look, and just nodded. He was hard to read sometimes, and got tetchy whenever Steve tried. He had to be in pain, and they'd been through hell. 

Instead, Steve went back to staring out the window, waiting for Hammond to return with his men. He was itching to move on already. The Zs were restless outside. He didn't like it. Either they sensed them, the rest of Hammond's team, or there were other survivors here that they had to worry about. He didn't like any of the options. The less they interacted with the rest of humanity the less trouble they had. Unfortunately, the ones in charge had different opinions on that. People had information, people had supplies, people needed help and helped in return. They were also dangerous, few had any objections to killing strangers.

Hammond's men had few objections to killing inconvenient civilians, at that. Hammond was less inclined to killing people who weren't an active threat, but if they were obstructing the mission he wasn't opposed to using force. If more people died than strictly necessary, these things happened when guns were pointed at soldiers didn't they? 

"You know, with a mission to save humanity, you'd think there'd be more saving people and less killing people," Steve commented, eyes fixed on the nearest Zs so he didn't see that his words earned him another long look. 

"Sounds hopelessly naïve. What were you in for, anyway?" Murphy asked, before shutting his mouth with an audible click of his teeth. This was already the most the two of them had spoken so far. They were told to shut up more often than not, when the soldiers were around. Questions were not welcome. 

"Something hopelessly naïve," Steve replied, glancing back at the injured man with a flash of teeth. Murphy snorted. Encouraged, Steve continued, "I learned some things I shouldn't have and opened my big mouth."

"Found someone's dirty little secret?" Murphy asked, interested despite himself. He looked more alert and alive than he had in days. It was enough to keep Steve talking about a subject that he really didn't care for. If he let himself think about it, he got too angry to think straight. 

"You could say that. I don't even know if the info I leaked got anywhere, but I tried. Fuck, if it helped _one_ person it was worth it-" 

Murphy was the one staring at him now, and he realized he was getting a bit worked up. His hands were clenched fists. He forced himself to loosen up, take a deep breath, and dial it back a few notches. He needed to get it together before he spilled his guts. He talked too much when he was stressed.

"So, yeah, they made me disappear a few years ago, and I didn't see daylight again until they moved me to Portsmouth after the outbreak," Steve summed up quickly and shrugged uncomfortably.

Now that he had Murphy's undivided attention, he wasn't certain that he wanted it. He'd said too much already, but he had a feeling that he wasn't going to be able to leave it at that.

If he told Murphy about what he'd found out, he had a feeling that he'd find a way to ditch the mission. He wouldn't blame him but again, he was pretty sure Murphy would die if he went off on his own. So long as these soldiers were alive, they'd keep him and Murphy alive. 

To avoid spilling his guts further, Steven looked back out the window at the soldiers. One of them was the trigger happy asshole that had prompted his previous comment. Those people didn't need to die. One aggressor whose group was already inclined to stop, turned into an entire group of Zs as well as casualties on their own side. Guard duty might have been punishment, but if so it was punishment that left him in charge of humanity's only hope. 

Pretty stupid.

Hammond wasn't stupid. 

What was this about?

"-rth to blondie." Murphy sounded annoyed. Had he been saying something before? Steve glanced back, to see Murphy sitting up, resting his elbows on his knees. If he was in any pain, he was hiding it well. "Finally. Any food in this house?"

"Didn't they leave us anything?" Steve asked, successfully distracted from his thoughts.

"An MRE to split. Come on, go see if there's anything actually edible and stop _moping_."

Steven rolled his eyes.

"Fine, whatever. Don't get your hopes up, and - don't go eating the whole MRE on me," Steven said without much heat. As often as not, he slipped Murphy his rations. It wasn't just because he couldn't stand them, eating just felt like too much sometimes. Whenever Hammond caught him sharing his food with Murphy, he'd had to eat it right in front of him to prove that he'd eaten 'to keep up his strength'.

He probably ought to be hungry but he wasn't. Probably a side effect of the nasty concoction they'd injected into his veins. It was the least of his worries, it was better than being hungry all the time like Murphy. 

Without another word, he slipped out of the room. He closed the door, careful not to make a sound to alert the guards and crept into the kitchen. He grimaced at the scene, and the smell. Z guts everywhere. Not a good sign. He went in anyway and started going through the cabinets and drawers. He found a sheathed kitchen knife, and slid it into his belt. They'd probably take it from him, but until Hammond got back he'd rather be armed. 

The kitchen wasn't completely barren, but it was also clear he wasn't the first person with this idea. There wasn't much of substance.

All wasn't lost, however. He gathered everything that he considered worth hauling up to the room into his arms, and crept back to the room.

The guards were talking on the front porch. His steps slowed, and he overheard some things he'd bet they wouldn't want to get back to Hammond. Complaining about the mission, complaining about Murphy, complaining about Hammond. Nothing about him? He must be losing his touch.

Steven put the men out of his head and hurried back to the room. He probably ought to eat at least some of the MRE. What he found wasn't exactly a replacement, it was just a really good bonus. Canned fruit with real fruit content with pull tabs so he didn't even have to hunt for a can opener. Reese puffs. _Nutella_. Someone here had a sweet tooth. He was ridiculously happy about the cracker breadsticks with cheese dip he'd found. So what if it wasn't really what he'd had in mind when he was thinking of dinner, but he'd be damned if he left these to the Zs. 

Balancing everything so he could open the door was a struggle, but he managed with only one casualty, a pack of animal crackers he kicked into the room before shutting the door with a swing of his hips.

"Check. This. Out." He dumped the armload of food onto the bed next to Murphy, before going to fetch the animal crackers from where he'd kicked them. 

"What are you, five?" Murphy laughed, but immediately claimed the Nutella. "Couldn't you find some real food?"

"I'll have you know that I'm thirty years old. Probably. Maybe it's thirty one now..." Steve dug around in the pile as he spoke, before finding what he was looking for. He held a ramen packet aloft. "I don't think the previous occupant did real food, Murphy."

"How do you think you're going to make that in here? We can't exactly start a fire." 

Steve looked him straight in the eyes, opened the ramen packet, and started eating the dry noodles in front of him. It was a real struggle to keep from laughing until after he swallowed. Murphy's face was priceless, but not worth choking over. "Believe it or not, I ate these like this before the apocalypse. Our microwave stopped working when I was a teenager and I could not wait 'til my Mom got home from work to eat."

They went quiet for the most part, while they ate the spoils of the hunt. Steve was packing the leftovers in his bag when the first shot rang out. He tensed, and rushed to the window. Again, he pressed himself close to the wall and peered out sideways to avoid being seen as he looked out. Their guards were shooting wildly at Zs crowding around them. Fuck. The rest of their group was still nowhere to be seen.

"Looks like the party's over," Steve muttered, and looked around the room. He spotted a chair about the right height, and dragged it over to the door. He was about to jam it under the handle when the guards burst in. They shoved the door closed again, and flung their bodies against it to keep the Zs at bay. Steve shoved the door under the handle like he'd originally planned, and backed out of their space. 

Blood. Was it from a Z or was it one of theirs? He stared at the blood dripping to the ground, and followed the trail of blood to Trigger Happy's neck. 

He backed up further until he reached to the bed. There was a look in the soldier's eyes that told him mentioning the bite was a bad idea. He'd be more dangerous than a Z if he felt cornered.

"Stay away from them," he told Murphy in as low of a voice as he could manage. If one of the soldiers turned, if they _both_ turned in this confined space, this wasn't going to go well. "Trigger Happy's bitten." 

The panic in Murphy's eyes told him he probably should have kept it to himself.

"What are we sitting around for? He's going to _turn_ -" he said, way too loudly in the small room.

"Shh! Fuck," Steve swore as the soldier glared at them. No, the soldier glared at Murphy. 

"You're gonna talk about my bite?? What about _your_ bites? You're fuckin' covered in bites!"

The other guard just leaned against the door, pushing back against the Z's. He avoided looking at his buddy, like if he didn't see it, it wasn't happening. So he probably wasn't going to deal with this. Fucking great.

Steven slowly moved between Trigger Happy and Murphy, like the man across from them wasn't holding a gun. He was holding it loosely in his hand, he wasn't waving it around. It was the best he could hope for right now. The best he could hope for was to avoid getting either of them shot before the man turned. 

"We're just going to sit here, alright? We're just going to sit and wait here until Hammond gets back," he said quietly, trying to keep his voice even and calm. "There's bandages in the bag by the window if you want 'em. You might get lucky, but you'll have to clean it up and stop the bleeding first."

He really fucking doubted the man had a chance, but if he thought he did, he might not do something desperate. The man had a look in his eyes like a trapped, wounded animal. He was going to die, but he wasn't going to survive long enough to move past denial.

"You do it," the soldier ordered, and it took a moment before Steve's brain processed the words. "I saw you taking care of Murphy's b-bites, and he's getting b-better. Do mine."

"Alright," Steven replied softly, breathing out through his nose. He ignored Murphy's hand on his shoulder, and went to the stricken man. His hands moved automatically, doing what he did for Murphy that first day. He had to appear calm, he had to move slowly, he couldn't startle him or they wouldn't live long enough for the bitten man to turn. 

Once he was done, he had to shove his hands into his pockets to hide the shaking, and retreated to the bed where Murphy was huddled in the corner. The Zs banging at the door competed for his attention with the one about to turn.

Steven sat directly between the injured soldier and Murphy, just barely leaning against the bed with his long legs hanging down, heels of his boots dug into the rug. He was ready to leap to his feet at a moments notice.

The sky darkened, and nothing changed. 

He exchanged looks with Murphy, to find that he'd calmed down. Instead of panicked, Murphy looked puzzled. Steven didn't want to let his guard down, but too much time had passed for it to be luck. Why wasn't the man turning? He should have turned by now.

Something was wrong- or right.

The other soldier was looking confused now too. They had all been waiting for something. Did they find someone with a natural immunity?

Gunfire.

Steven jumped to his feet, then flattened himself down again so he wouldn't get hit with stray bullets. One of the guards whispered an order to 'stay quiet, it might not be Hammond' and no one moved. He could hear Murphy breathing nearby, just out of sight. 

The gunfire got closer, and then there was pounding on the door. The soldier's kicked the chair out that was blocking the door, and opened it to the rest of Hammond's men. There were less of them than before, but Hammond was still there. Tension released that he hadn't realized built up while the man was gone. 

"What the hell happened here?" Hammond demanded, looking from the guards to Murphy and Steven. There was dried blood on Steve's hands he'd wiped off on his jeans. He looked like a mess, but Trigger Happy looked rough. He'd lost a lot of blood, and the bandage on his neck was partially soaked through. But - he hadn't turned all night, and it seemed like the bleeding had finally stopped.

"Zs, sir. We barely had time to fall back, and secure the-" the other guard said.

"I _see_ that, Stewart. Was Jameson bitten and if he _was_ , why are you all just sitting waiting for him to turn?"

"Our escape route was blocked," Murphy shot back.

"Beck bandaged his wound and- he wasn't turning, sir," Stewart said, clearly sweating now that he realized he had gone from the frying pan into the fire.

"I- I'm sorry sir, I'm sorry, _I'msorry,"_ Jameson began apologizing profusely, and suddenly Steven realized how young he was. He couldn't be more than twenty. He was scared and probably dying and could barely grow a mustache. He'd killed people because he was young and scared and looked like- they probably pulled him out of bootcamp early or something. He couldn't be old enough to drink, let alone die fighting a lost cause. He looked like he was fighting back tears. Fuck.

"It was hours ago, Hammond, he's not turning," Steven said firmly, eyes on the gun Hammond was still holding. It wasn't aimed at Jameson, but it was held at the ready. It was like when he'd returned for them, and he had been about to put Murphy 'out of his misery.' 

"You sure?"

Hammond's measured gaze locked on his, Jameson's scared ones turned to him, and he slowly nodded. He abso-fucking-lutely was not sure, but there was no way he was going to let them kill the kid if he had a chance at surviving. "He's already lasted longer than anybody but Murphy. He- he might have a natural immunity."

Steven watched as Hammond considered this. Three options for a possible vaccine probably sounded good. The chances of getting all three of them to California alive were slim, but one of them might just make it.

"Right. If it looks like he's turning, we have to put him down immediately, but we give him the chance. If he survives the night, we're golden."

That settled, Hammond gave the rest of his men orders, sent Stewart to go through the kitchen for supplies, and set up Jameson in the other room with a pair of soldiers to watch him through the night.

The moment the soldiers left the room, Murphy grabbed Steven's arm and whispered roughly, "Are you fucking serious? He could turn any second-"

"Or he could be immune, and we have an out," Steve whispered back, and stared him down. Murphy stared back at him, but didn't argue the idea. There was an unnerving intensity to that stare but Steve wasn't about to show it bothered him. "You want nothing to do with this mission. The more options they got, the better chance we've got off noping the fuck out of here."

“I’m stuck with a hopelessly naïve _optimist._ In the zombie apocalypse. I'm doomed."

Steve had to bite back a laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Things aren't what they seem, except that Steven has gone from hating Jameson's guts to wanting to protect him, Steven IS as bad as his dad about adopting troubled teenagers, and Murphy and Steven have too much fun bickering. That is exactly how it seems. 
> 
> *I accidentally lost a few paragraphs, but it turned out for the best. What I ended up writing instead was way more interesting. I probably should admit it happened because I got distracted working on a drawing of Steve. I think it was a fair trade off tbh. I like his stupid face. I'll figure out a way to share it once its finished.
> 
> *Thanks for the kind and encouraging words! It's good to be back.


	3. Accident & Emergency

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything is on fire and nothing's okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I accidentally posted this chapter early, it wasn't finished so I wrote something quick and fun and edited it in. I say fun, I mean chaotic. No one's having fun here except me.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!!" Jameson was yelling, and Steven wholeheartedly agreed with that sentiment. They were running through a town. The town was on fire. Their transportation was on fire. The zombies were on fire. At one point, he had been on fire, and if Jameson hadn't acted quickly he'd have gone up in flames. This sucked. This sucked so bad.

"Which way did they go?" Steven yelled back, or tried to. Most of it turned into coughing, but he thought Jameson got the general idea of it because he grabbed Steve's arm and pointed vaguely.

He was trying to get Steve to go faster, but he couldn't. He kept on doubling over, coughing.

He'd breathed in too much smoke and his lungs were not happy.

Jameson wouldn't let up. Ever since he'd helped the kid, he'd been like a limpet. He couldn't shake him. Not that he really wanted to, but Murphy wouldn't let it go.

Over the last year, Murphy had gone from teasing Steve about him, to incessantly pestering Jameson with innuendo, to getting an attitude with both of them over just about anything they said. If he didn't know better he'd say the man was jealous.

He was definitely, incurably jealous, which would have been hilarious since there wasn't any basis for it. Steve didn't go for younger men, and Jameson hadn't shown any inclination towards men in general. It would have been hilarious, except that Murphy had been an intolerable asshole about it.

If they couldn't find the group in this smokey, burning zombie filled hellscape, Murphy would just have to deal with that without them.

"Hurry up, Beck, they were going for the prison outside of town!" the teenager practically shrieked in his ear. "We have to catch them before they leave without us." 

Steven was lucky the kid gave a damn. He had been left behind in the confusion, again. The kid had come looking for him on his own. He'd practically dragged Steve out of a burning building, and was the only thing keeping Steve moving. 

The first time he'd been left behind, he'd somehow known where to go. He'd found them. If he was able to focus, he might be able to find them again, but it was all he could do to stay upright and moving.

He was going to have to trust Jameson to get them out of this one. It would be enough if the kid could get them away from the fires. He'd be alright then, once he had time to rest up. He'd find them again somehow. He felt it in his gut, he could find them again like he had in the woods.

He had to lean heavily onto the young soldier's shoulders, and focus on putting one foot in front of the other.

"The Zs are avoiding us." As he spoke up, Jameson slowed down a little.

"Hmn?" Steve looked up from his feet. The kid wasn't wrong. Even on fire, the Zs abruptly changed directions to avoid them once they drew near. He'd thought they just didn't notice him before. They were actively avoiding them. They didn't take notice of the fact that they were covered in fire, but when Steve and Jameson approached them they fled. "Huh."

"We _might_ just make it." 

With renewed energy and enthusiasm, Jameson increased his pace. It was all Steve could do to keep up. It was all he could do to keep breathing, to keep moving, because the kid was counting on him.

They needed to catch up to his team. If Steve thought Murphy would die out on his own, Jameson didn't have much better odds. The kid was a mess. He practically hero worshiped Hammond, and now Steve. He couldn't let him down.

"We're almost there! Look, this is the road out of town, its just down the road Beck. Come on, we're almost there!" 

He kept up the encouragement, even though the smoke must have been harsh on his lungs too. He kept shouting, kept dragging Steve forward. Forward through the... blood splattered street. Steve began moving faster, mustering up the reserves of his energy. The bodies on the road were familiar. There was Stewart. Faster, they had to pass him by before Jameson recognized the bodies.

They got several paces further before Jameson stumbled to halt.

"Wh- Hall? Fenton!" the kid looked around, white around the lips. The bodies of his team. Only a few were missing. Hammond. Murphy. Funk. Cutler.

The rest were dead, or close enough. Stewart was still moving, but he'd turned. 

"Come on, kid," Steve muttered, tugging at his shoulders. Jameson spun away and ran to Stewart's side. 

Steve stumbled after him, and grabbed the kid just before the Z lunged at him. 

"Let go, he needs help," the kid sobbed, struggling to get to the zombie.

"You're right. He needs help," Steve agreed soothingly, and Jameson stopped struggling. Steve pulled the knife out of his belt, and approached the Z.

"Wait, that's - you said you'd help!" 

"Jameson. You know this is the only way we can help them now." He kept his voice calm, soothing, like he had when Jameson had been injured. "If I could save them, I would. You know I would."

A slow nod, sniffles, understanding.

The Z stopped lunging at Jameson at Steve's approach. It was had gotten very, very quiet. It had stopped growling or making those unsettling gurgling noises. He reached out with the knife, and it scrambled away from him suddenly, making a high pitched sound.

"He's afraid," Jameson whispered softly.

"He can't be afraid, he's not- there's nothing left to be afraid," Steve replied, but his smoke abused throat constricted. Whatever was left of a Z, it was terrified of him. "I don't know. Maybe there is. None of us knows a damn thing about this shit, do we?"

"No, we don't. We can't leave him like this, can we..."

"Better if we end it now so he can't hurt anyone else, and... if there's anything left of him in there, for him too."

Jameson sniffed, nodded, and raised his gun. The Z that had been his friend had made it down the street. Too much further and he'd be lost in the smoke. The young soldier took aim, pulled the trigger, and released. The Z fell. The gun fell out of the kid's nerveless fingers. It went off, bullets sprayed the bushes harmlessly.

"You did the right thing, Jam," Steve said quietly, and picked up the gun. "Let's go. We don't want them to leave us behind."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was set nearly a year after the previous chapters, days before first contact with Camp Blue Sky when Hammond was given directions to the National Guard outpost that turned into Camp Blue Sky. I'll either flashback to the skipped year, or do side fics. If you have a preference to side fics or flashback chapters let me know.
> 
> Classes start again next week, so there might be more than a week between chapters until the semester ends in mid-May. Hope you enjoyed this chaotic bonus mini-chapter.


	4. Rendezvous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One step behind Hammond and Murphy, every step of the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Early update to celebrate the Z Nation tag reaching 500 works! Congrats everyone, that's so cool!!

When they had reached the prison, Hammond and Murphy had already left. Cutler was dead, and Funk had turned. Steven and Jameson had arrived just in time to save the last few survivors at the prison. The rest had been turned by Funk. In return, the survivors were at least able to tell them where the others had gone, at their (now dead) leader's directions. They'd gone to seek help at a National Guard run camp of survivors.

It was regrettable that they couldn't stay to help any more than they had by killing the Zs threatening them, but they needed to catch up before the others met up with their rendezvous. 

Jameson had asked if the survivors wanted to come with them to the other camp, but they'd decided to rebuild at the prison despite their losses. It was defensible. Couldn't argue that, their fatalities were from someone they'd let in, not Zs that broke through. They had as much of a chance there as anywhere.

When they reached Camp Blue Sky, they discovered that it wasn't run by the National Guard anymore. Still, it looked like it was thriving.

That made the bad news they carried weigh all the heavier, from what they'd seen along the waterway.

The people there had bad news of their own. Hammond and Murphy had already left. It seemed like they were one step behind Hammond and Murphy, every step of the way. It was getting a little old already, but at least they were on the right path. They weren't far behind.

"You're not catching up to them like that. Take a load off your feet, get something to eat, and then go after them," Redburn told them, looking at Jameson. The young soldier was swaying on his feet. Steven wasn't doing any better, still feeling rough from the smoke inhalation.

Resting sounded good, it really did, but it wasn't going to happen. Not after what they'd seen.

"I'd love to," Steve said, voice hoarse. "But this camp needs to be evacuated. The shoreline is littered with fresh Zs, and there's more in the water. Have you ever seen a beach completely covered in seagulls? It's like that."

Speaking didn't feel great, but he needed to make them understand the danger they were in.

"We're going to need more than just your word," Donner said, moving as if he was going to go see for himself.

They didn't have time for this. They had an entire camp of people to uproot, and they were falling further and further behind Murphy and Hammond. He tried to be a patient man, but this wasn't the time for it.

Steve folded his arms, and snapped out, "Fine, but if you go, when they come after you, you better run _away_ from the camp, or you'll just bring those Zs down on these people. We're headed out. I'd rather you got out too, but that's your choice."

Maybe that was too far, but it seemed like everywhere they went, they left the dead in their wake in the place of thriving groups of survivors.

He was sick of it.

Donner looked like he wanted to take issue with what he'd said, but Redburn was nodding agreement. 

"If there's a chance what they're saying is true, we better have the kids on the bus and down the road before we check it out," Redburn said firmly. "We can rebuild. This spot isn't worth our lives. It isn't worth _their_ lives." He nodded towards the kids playing.

Donner looked like he still wanted to argue but kept quiet. Small miracles.

"Get on the bus with the kids, keep them quiet. We'll follow with the wagon," Redburn said, nodding to an old station wagon. "Got to grab some supplies quick before we hit the road. We'll meet up with you, drop you off with your team before heading out to the next outpost."

"Sounds- sounds good. Thank you," Steven said, surprised by the offer. He and Jameson climbed into the bus and took a seat behind the driver seat.

The bus loaded up in minutes. It still felt like too long, but they were on the road before the first Z stumbled into camp. Another followed, and then it was practically a flood. Then they were around the bend and the bus put on speed.

Steve sighed. He couldn't say if the two men would make it out, but he'd done what he could. If they survived, they'd catch up.

He leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes. He was so tired, he thought he could fall asleep sitting up, rough road and all.

A rumble shook the bus. 

"Wha-" he spun around to look behind him. It wasn’t easy to make out from the front of the bus, but he could see enough.

There were flames billowing into the sky above the camp. He wasn't sure what had happened or how, but his hopes plummeted that they'd see their newest acquaintances again. Unless they’d set off that explosion on purpose, but he couldn’t figure out what that purpose would be.

Moments later the bus skidded to a stop on the gravel road. 

"Why are we stopping?!" someone yelled from the back.

"Get in!" the driver shouted, opening the doors for people running out of the woods.

Steve tensed, wondering if they were people or Zs. An old man, a young man, and a young woman. They looked pretty healthy for the apocalypse, if out of breath. 

"Blue Sky is overrun," the driver said almost cheerfully. "We're meeting up with Garnett and Warren. Take a seat."

The bus started up again, before they'd even climbed up the stairs. 

"Oh, you're new. When did you show up?" the redhead asked the strangers on the bus as she sat across from them. Steve eyed the weapon she laid across her knees. If a metal baseball bat had babies with a medieval mace, that'd be the outcome. He rather liked it, and barely paid mind to the young man that joined her. That left the last newcomer, the old man, to take a seat further back with one of the kids. 

"Just... just a little while ago. There were hundreds of Zs washed up outside your camp. Figured it'd be nice to say so before we went on our way," Jameson told her with a winning smile.

He got a smile back for his efforts, and a glower from the blond man next to her. Steve shook his head. He didn't know if Jam was trying to flirt with her, but he really hoped it didn't end with them fighting for her attention. She was pretty, and looked tough with that weapon, but it wasn't worth the inevitable outcome.

"Thanks for that, kid," the old man said from a few seats back. "I really mean it."

"Um. You're welcome. I- oh, yeah. I'm Jameson, this is Beck. We're just hitching a ride until we catch up to our friends."

"I'm Addy, and this is Mack and Doc," the young woman replied. She seemed to notice her companion's irritation with the young solider, but that didn't faze her.

While the two of them chatted, Steven watched the road. He wasn't sure how far ahead Murphy and Hammond were, but it had sounded like they'd just missed them. They might catch up at any moment. He couldn't pay attention to idle chatter. What if they'd turned off the road or - what if they crashed? He needed to watch the road.

"Redburn said some of your people were with our... friends?" he asked the bus driver, hesitating to use the word Jameson had used. He didn't have many people he'd call friends before the apocalypse, besides some people that had become more like family. The rest of his group didn't really fall into either category, although Jam seemed to have adopted him. Hammond thought of them as his mission, and Murphy kept them at a distance with his attitude most of the time.

"Ah, yeah, Warren and Garnett went off with them. Don't worry, your friends'll be safe with them," the driver said. She didn't look back at them, kept her eyes on the road. Steve was glad of her caution- it was a rough unpaved road loosely scattered with gravel, and no shoulder to speak of. 

"Oh yeah!" the old man called out to the driver, "Keep an eye out for them. They'd pulled over to contact Blue Sky, might still be stopped on the road ahead."

"Sure thing, Doc!"

Steve shifted in his seat, barely aware of the conversations around him. His eyes were on the road ahead, and he couldn't shake the premonition that they'd find the vehicle in a ditch, and everyone dead. He nearly jumped out of his skin when someone touched his shoulder.

"Uh, what?" he asked, realizing Jameson was staring at him. "What?" 

"Are... you sure you want to join back up with them?" Jameson asked in a too-loud whisper. Their new acquaintances didn't interrupt, though they looked too interested for his comfort. "He's got Murphy. He doesn't need you." 

The suggestion shook him. He'd thought the kid was as intent on the mission as Hammond. Steven hadn't realized he'd shifted his loyalties to him so completely.

"They- they already used you as a lab rat. You don't owe them anything, Beck. We could stay with these people, and- they could go to California without us." 

Steven opened his mouth and closed it again. He was tempted to agree. He didn't owe those people anything, but- he wasn't about to disappear while Murphy was still involved. As much of an ass he could be, he wasn't going to leave him to whatever fate awaited him in California alone.

"I... you're right, I don't owe them anything. But I'm going. If I don't like what they've got in mind for us, I'll shove the next IV up their asses," Steven finally replied, and Jam gaped at him. "Don't worry about it, kid. Can't let Murphy have all the fun."

"Who used you as a lab rat?" Addy finally cut in, unable to hold her tongue any longer. 

"Oh, you know, government doctors trying to come up with a vaccine-"

"Beck, I don't think we're supposed to talk about that!" 

Steve just laughed at Jameson. It set off a fit of coughing that left him doubled over, gasping for breath.

"You- brought- it- up," he forced it out, and tried to stop laughing. It wasn't that funny. He was just tired and stressed, and Jameson really seemed to think he'd been all sneaky with that stage whisper. A few more coughs, and he was done. "I don't think it matters anymore, Jameson."

The young soldier didn't seem too sure about it, but he held his peace and their new acquaintances kept any other questions they had to themselves. There was no sign of the others on the road, no trucks in the ditch, nothing. They must have gone on after that explosion. Given Blue Sky up for lost. Hammond would have insisted.

Steven sank back into his seat and closed his eyes. They'd catch up to them this time. They had to.

His exhaustion finally caught up to him, and he fell into an uneasy slumber. 

He startled awake when the bus slowed down abruptly, making him bounce his head against the window. 

"Wha-" he slurred, pushing himself back into a seated position. He felt half-drunk from the short nap.

"That's the truck. Was this the rendezvous?" the driver asked, bringing the bus to a stop several yards behind the truck.

The position gave the truck plenty of room to pull out. It also gave the driver plenty of room to maneuver the bus if things went bad here. Smart woman. 

"I think so," Jameson said, peering over the driver's shoulder. The young soldier looked intense. "This... this doesn't look good. I'm going to head in, pull the bus back and get ready to go without me if Zs show up."

Steven leaned forward. Were they too late again? Dead soldiers, crashed cars, smoke... there wasn't any backup here. 

"Beck, you should stay back," Jameson said uneasily, but Steven ignored him to push past him towards the doors. "Wait!"

He'd heard voices outside, and he wasn't going to be too late this time.

“Oh great, it’s a field trip,” he could hear Murphy complain, and he couldn't wait to shut him up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is almost complete, so despite having an intense workload this week regular updates will continue.
> 
> Seriously though, I probably shouldn't have done 16 credit hours this semester. Three tests, two quizzes, a project, and six or so other assignments this week? No problem, right? RIGHT?


	5. Misunderstandings

In hindsight, breaking out into a run without fully taking stock of their surroundings might've been a mistake. Steven had seen Murphy standing outside of the building and it was like his mind went blank. He just took off, oblivious to their surroundings.

When he passed the crashed car and fallen fencing he was greeted with the barrel of a gun. He froze mid stride, and almost overbalanced. 

"Uh, hi-" he said, staring at the weapon pointed at his face. He slowly took a step back, raising his hands to show they were empty. "Are you Garnett or Warren?" 

"I'm asking the questions here," she replied, eyes narrowed at him. She followed his movements with the gun. "What are you doing with the bus?" 

The explosion- he made some quick connections that made his stomach plummet into his boots. She thought he was responsible for the explosion. She thought that he stole the bus. She _probably_ thought he'd killed most, if not all, of her survivor group.

He might end up dead real quick if she didn't believe him.

No pressure.

"Getting a lift from some people whose camp just got overrun by Zs," he said, wanting to glance back at the bus but not willing to look away from the gun. “They called it Blue Sky?”

"He's one of our guys," Murphy spoke up, unexpectedly. The attitude in his voice was not so unexpected. "If that's what he said happened, that's what happened-"

"I'll be the judge of that," the woman snapped, before her attention was drawn to something behind him.

The bus. He glanced behind himself only to see the old man coming out, followed by several of the others. The couple that had come aboard with him, and Jameson.

Jameson saw what was going on and aimed his gun at the woman.

"Lower your weapon!" he called out, trying to sound tough. He was betrayed by his voice breaking. 

_Please don’t get me shot, kid_ , Steve mentally begged, unsure how to make this mess clean itself up before someone got hurt.

"Hey! Everyone, calm down," the old man called out as he left the bus, followed by Jameson, Addy, and then Mack. "Warren, these boys helped evacuate Blue Sky right before it was overrun. They're okay."

Jameson's hands shook, and Steve repeated what Jam had said, "Lower your weapon, Jameson. Take a deep breath. We’re good."

"Hey, look, I'm lowering my weapon, alright? It's okay, just a misunderstanding," Warren called out in a clear voice, steady and reassuring. She seemed to realize the kid was not the sort of person you wanted with a loaded weapon pointing at her. Dangerous, not because he was particularly competent with his weapon, but because he was scared, young, and shaking.

She lowered her weapon slowly, but Steve thought she was ready to throw herself into action if she needed to. 

The young soldier lowered his weapon too, and took several deep, unsteady breaths. 

It was probably a good thing that Jameson hadn't been the first one off the bus.

At least one of them would have died. Likely more.

"What's going on out here? I just got the baby to stop crying."

A strange man stepped out of the nearby building, holding a baby. Probably Garnett, though Steven couldn't imagine where they'd found a baby among the dead.

"Where did you get a _baby_ out here?" Steven asked, approaching the man. He stopped a moment later, and asked, "Where's Hammond?" 

"Hammond's around," the man replied, bouncing the baby. "The baby was in the crashed car."

Deciding Hammond could wait, he decided that the baby was a more pressing problem.

"That crying baby's gonna draw the Zs like-" Murphy started complaining, and Steve immediately cut him off.

"Yeah, yeah, Murphy. Any of you give the baby a bottle?" 

Getting a blank stare from Murphy, Garnett, and Warren, he took that as a hard 'no.' He sighed and climbed into the car, digging around for a diaper bag. He wrinkled his nose at the smell of corpse left to rot in sun baked car. It was a lot fresher than he'd gotten used to over the past year. Ripe. It was a good thing he hadn't eaten recently or he'd have lost the contents of his stomach all over the car. 

"Fucking useless, people," he muttered, then added louder, "That baby was left in a hot car! It's dehydrated, assholes. If you don't get fluids into it, it's gonna die...”

Steve went back to digging through the dead woman’s possessions until he found what they needed. He backed out of the car with the bag. There was an empty bottle. He wasn't sure what they'd do about formula, but water would be a start.

“None of you know shit about kids, do you?"

It wasn't a question. It was venting. His adrenaline levels were sky high from nearly getting shot in the face. 

Moving away from the car and what was left of the roadkill Z, he carefully poured some water from his canteen into the baby bottle. 

"Give me the baby. Seriously, give it here-" Steven insisted impatiently and waited, frowning, until Garnett handed the baby over. A few bounces, and the promise of a bottle and the crying stopped immediately. "Babies cry for a _reason_ , people." 

He let it have as much water as he thought would be safe, before taking the bottle away. It cried again, and he hushed it. "Shh. Want a cookie?"

"I want a cookie. Where'd you get a cookie-" Murphy complained and Steve rolled his eyes. 

"Shut up, Murphy," he replied with absolutely no heat in his voice. "If you play nice, you can have a cookie too,"

He'd been so sure that he'd be dead when he found him. It was still hard to believe that he'd found him and Hammond alive. These days, it was hard to believe anyone was alive unless they were in his line of sight. 

"Fuck you." Murphy looked annoyed, but not angry.

Maybe he'd been worried about him too, but it was always hard to tell with him. He might've just been annoyed. 

"Missed you too, Murphy," Steve replied, and grinned when the man grumbled and looked away. 

Jameson laughed, and checked out the baby as it drooled over the cookie Steve had offered it. 

"He's adorable," the kid said, and in a few moments they'd traded the gun for the baby. The kid seemed like he was better with a baby than a gun, anyway. The baby was all gummy smiles after that.

It hadn’t been hard to convince Jam to hand the gun over again. Maybe Steve could find a better suited weapon for the kid. Something closer to that young woman's bat-mace. Or- Steve smiled at the thought- stakes, like on Buffy. Steve thought that longer and narrower would be better suited to Z staking, though. He thought he'd do better with something like that. Easy to make with whatever was on hand, too. 

While he was considering how well stakes would work in action against a group of Zs, Hammond strode around the building. He had a young woman following him, and Steve could guess the exact moment he noticed him and Jameson.

Steve became aware he looked like he'd been through hell, fire and all. Murphy and Hammond didn't look much better, but at least their clothes weren't scorched. They must have gotten out before the fires had gotten so bad.

"You're alive," the man said when he was closer. He sounded completely unsurprised. "Stop disappearing on me, Beck."

"When _you_ stop disappearing on me, I'll stop getting lost," Steven replied with a grin.

“Beck? I thought your name was Buck,” the old man interjected, looking at Steven like he was a different person or something. 

Hammond looked irritated at the interruption.

“What are they all doing here?" he asked Steve and Jameson, jerking his chin at the bus.

"Camp was overrun," Addy replied helpfully, her weapon resting on her shoulder. 

Doc nodded, "Your guys gave us an early warning and got everyone out just in time.” 

"They agreed to drop us off since they already had to come this way to find Garnett and Warren," Steven rehashed for Hammond before glancing at Doc, "And it's Beck. Not my fault you couldn't hear us on the bus, man. Why does that even matter?"

"Uh, guys..." Murphy pushed past the others to get to Hammond and Steve. "We need to get moving." 

"Puppies and kittens, two hundred yards away," Warren spoke up. While they were talking, she'd kept an eye on their surroundings. 

Hammond gave them a puzzled look and Garnett explained, "Zombies."

"Alright everybody, time to go," Hammond announced, "You four, gather all the food and weapons you can find, load them in that truck, keys are still inside-"

The scruffy blond cut him off with a shout, "Hey! We haven't talked about this."

"We can talk about it later-" Hammond snapped back. "Right now you do what I tell you."

That didn't go over great. The Blue Sky people didn't seem to like getting ordered around by strangers. 

"Jameson-" he saw the kid holding the baby and Beck with the gun, and adjusted his plans for expediency, "Beck, get Jameson, the baby, and Murphy onto that bus. Garnett, make sure no Zs get in and keep your people safe. We don't need to fight off a busload of Zs." 

He turned to Warren, "Warren, you and I are going to see if we can start up that deuce and a half. We roll out in five."

No one replied, or moved. They just looked around at each other, like there was no urgency in the situation. Steven breathed out heavily and decided they could stand there all they wanted, he was going. They didn't have time for this bullshit.

"Come on, Murphy," Steve muttered, moving towards the bus. Jameson fell into step behind them and after a beat Garnett followed. As if they'd been waiting for Garnett to do or say something, the others went about their assigned tasks as well.

There was only one Z between them and the bus, and Garnett took it down without a problem. Jameson boarded with the baby first, followed by Murphy. Steve stepped in for a moment to get the driver up to date. 

"Turn this bus around, and get ready to go as soon as they get those trucks moving. Probably four minutes from now. Garnett and I will stand guard. Keep all the windows and doors closed. We won't let any Z in, alright?"

He stepped back outside, and he and Garnett got out of the way while she turned the bus around. No Zs approached them, yet, but he heard a shot go off near the building close to where the others had gone to look for supplies. 

He and Garnett stood outside the bus doors with their weapons at the ready. They took out several Zs that wandered too close, though none came close enough for it to be noticeable how they avoided Steven. He was glad he didn't have to explain that yet. He wasn't sure how to explain it, he barely understood it himself.

If Hammond was there, he'd have ordered Steve onto the bus. It felt good to be - out, doing the protecting instead of being protected. 

Murphy clambered out of the bus when the last Z was dead, followed by Jameson and the baby. Somehow he'd been outfitted with a baby harness while he was in the bus. Steve didn't comment on it. He also didn't give him his gun back.

Hammond pulled up with one of the trucks, and Doc with the other. Everyone piled out. 

"Get in the trucks, we're moving out," Hammond said, then asked with irritation, "What are you waiting for?"

"We still haven't talked about this," Mack complained. Whether he was bothered by Hammond acting as leader, Jameson preening for his girlfriend, or something else he didn't say. Steve would bet it was all of the above and then some.

"We aren't really taking them with us, are we?" Murphy asked, groaning. "Might as well paint a big target on our backs."

"If they're going the same way as us, we can travel together as far as the next safe outpost. After that, we're going our separate ways," Hammond said, resolutely ignoring both of their attitudes. "Warren, Garnett, I'd rather have you with us, but I understand if you need to stay with your people."

“I wouldn’t mind traveling together, until we find a good spot to relocate Blue Sky,” Warren said in an aside to Garnett, and the man nodded in agreement.

"They're going to need us, now more than ever. I understand the importance of your mission, but you said it. I’ve got to look after my people. We’re with you, just until we’ve found a new Blue Sky,” Garnett said.

Mack visibly deflated when he realized he was stuck with them. Steve decided it wasn't his problem until he made it a problem. Hopefully the next safe outpost was closer to this coast than California.

"Alright, then-" Hammond stopped speaking almost immediately, as his radio buzzed to life. He stepped away from the group and spoke into it quietly. 

Steve listened, irritated that this was the only way he really knew anything. Only bits and pieces he overheard from Hammond's side of things, and whatever else Hammond decided he was allowed to know. He was really fed up with it, but maybe- maybe soon things might change. Hammond was the only one left from Operation Bitemark besides Jameson, and Jameson- Jameson was loyal to him, not Hammond. 

_"-is Delta X-Ray Delta_ _-_ _-the package is safe--_ _overrun-_ _-you're breaking up-_ DAMN it, it's dead," Hammond ended with a sudden shout. 

"What was that?" Garnett asked. Hammond scrutinized him before speaking. 

"Our eyes in the sky," Hammond said shortly. He must have considered the same thing Steve had - he and Jameson were the last members of his team. He wanted, and needed, a new team.

The problem was, they weren't their new team. They were just traveling together for a while.

After loading up what supplies and weapons they scavenged, they ended up leaving with two trucks, the big deuce and a half Hammond and Warren managed to get working, and the bus. Doc stopped the entire line up to pick up some teenager with a big gun, wearing boot-rubber spaulders. After the kid hopped into the back of Doc's truck, they moved out. 

Steve grimaced as he saw Murphy pulled out a tooth. 

That... that couldn't be good. He tried not to stare or draw attention to it, and just watched what he could see from his peripheral vision. He didn't think their new friends would be happy to find out that Murphy was having negative side effects to the vaccine. They might get... jumpy.

He blinked when he saw Murphy try to shove it back into his jaw. Not because he was surprised that Murphy tried it, but because he was surprised it worked. How did that work? He - he was too tired for this. Murphy seemed - not okay, but he wasn't turning Z, and Steve needed to sleep off the last few days. He'd really been running on nothing but fumes and an adrenaline rush. Safe to say as long as they were moving he could sleep. 

"Wake me up if we need to run or something," he muttered at Murphy, and propped himself up against the door.As soon as he got used to the movement of the truck, Steve started dozing off. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't an 'everybody lives, nobody dies' fic, but I'm not necessarily going to have things go the same way they did in the show either. I've got some ideas about where the next few chapters are going. Definitely looking forward to Resurrection Z the most but plenty of fun up 'til then. I hope you'll enjoy what I have planned.


	6. Keep Calm

_Steven Beck Jr_

"-on, Blondie, this isn't funny."

He became aware of the voice before he was aware of the hand on his shoulder. It shook him roughly, and he didn't resist the movement. He slumped right back down when it stopped, but it didn't let him go. It's grip was almost painfully tight, and when he didn't respond it shook him again, harder.

"Nnn, lemm'lone," Steve protested, but that only resulted in more insistent shaking. It forced him the rest of the way into consciousness.

"Damn it, blondie- if you want me to leave you alone, wake up long enough to _drink some water._ "

Water sounded good. His throat felt like hell.

He forced his eyes open, and realized the two of them were alone in the truck. It was pulled over to the side of the road, and he realized he could hear the others outside talking amongst themselves.

The chatter stopped with the rumble of motorcycles.

Motorcycles? He rubbed at his eyes, and looked out the window as the pair of motorcycles passed them by real slow. The bikers gave them a good once over as they went by.

He didn't relax until well after they were out of sight.

"Why're we stopped?" he asked blearily, accepting the water shoved his way. 

"We're running out of gas, and it sounds like something's wrong with one of the trucks," Murphy replied, "If they can't get it going, there's going to be some musical chairs. And we... might have to do some walking soon."

Steve yawned hard enough for his jaw to make a popping noise. "Well let's see what's the problem," he mumbled, and climbed out of the truck. Murphy followed after him, and they approached Warren and Doc who were checking one of the trucks' tires. He wasn't thrilled at the idea of everyone cramming together but it was better than walking. 

The crushed Z growling was not what Steve expected to see, and he wished he hadn't. It was another level of disturbing.

That mess of viscera used to be human, it used to be a person.

Murphy's recoil and mild freak out wasn't unexpected, at least not to him, so he followed Murphy across the road as Warren dealt with the undead roadkill. He didn't say anything, just stood beside Murphy until he got his breathing under control again.

The group gathered to give New York City a last, lingering look before they headed out again. Hammond didn't try to rush them, although Steve could see he was itching to move on. It was unbelievable that they were trying to reach California. It had taken them a year just to make it to New York, and most of their old group had died to get them that far. 

He wondered if anyone besides Hammond, Murphy, and Jameson would be willing to go all the way. He knew that Garnett and Warren would likely stay with their group, but the others? He wasn't so sure. The two outsiders might come along, neither seemed comfortable with the main group. They might go their own way, but they might be convinced to join them instead.

Would that be doing them any favors though?

He'd have to wait to see if they could handle themselves before putting the idea to Hammond, or it'd be likely they'd just be getting them killed. 

As the others continued to look on the city solemnly, Murphy muttered, "Seeya in the next life." 

When Murphy turned his back on the city and, Steve followed him back to the truck. "Only took us a year to get this far. Think we'll reach California in the next decade?" he asked when he caught up, eyebrows raised. The man shook his head, but Steve could see the smile that was mostly hidden in his beard. He didn't think he was going to get more of an answer than that.

"If California's still there when we get there," Murphy replied, leaning against the truck. "If we're still alive in a decade. Maybe."

"I don't know about California, I don't know about the rest of humanity, but _we'll_ be around. You're immune, and me?" Steve grinned at Murphy. He hadn't seen it yet. Maybe once he sees it, he'll feel safer. "The zombies run the other way. Wait til you see it. Stay close to me and you've got nothing to worry about it."

Murphy looked at him appraisingly. "I'll keep that in mind."

"All-right, let's go. We're headed out. We'll look for gas along the way."

Steve found himself jammed into the back seat of the truck with Murphy, and Mack, with Addy climbing in after them. He almost asked how she thought she was going to fit before she settled on Mack's lap. That worked. Hammond and the young woman they'd picked up at the school- he really had to figure out her name- took the front seat, Warren, Garnett, Doc, and the hitchhiker kid took the other truck, and Jameson went back to the school bus. 

If it came down to it, they were going to have to abandon everything else and put everything they had into the school bus. Or they'd all have to walk. He couldn't imagine keeping everyone safe on foot, not with all those kids. He couldn't imagine getting anywhere if that happened. Hammond would insist on leaving them to it, because the mission was everything to him. Hopefully they'd find gas before things got to that point.

It wasn't long before he regretted not going into the bus. He was too big to be in the middle seat, for one thing. Despite the last year's malnutrition, he was still broader than Murphy in the shoulders, if not much taller than him. More to the point, Mack seemed to think he was intentionally in his and Addy's space, and Murphy insisted on sitting with his back to the window. His knees were jammed into Steve's legs.

Irritably, Steve took Murphy by the legs and pulled them onto his lap, leaving much more of the seat free for the rest of them.

The expression on his face was hilarious, but it was just a bonus. Though... he hadn't meant to make Murphy bang his head against the window.

"Seriously?" Murphy complained, rubbing at the back of his head and clearly disgruntled by the manhandling.

He probably expected it from Hammond by now but Steve usually respected things like boundaries. It was time for Murphy to understand he'd put up with a lot of his shit, but not everything. 

Steve shrugged, and grinned, "Make space or get displaced, scruffy."

That said, he scooted further over, so he was dead center in the truck instead of jammed into Mack and Addy. Addy laughed, and Mack immediately looked a lot less agitated.

Mission success.

Except he had Murphy's legs in his lap, and the man would not stay still. It would've been tolerable - if distracting - if it didn't quickly devolve into Murphy and Mack harassing each other across Steve's space just because Murphy nudged Mack with his grungy boots one time too many. Then it mostly consisted of Mack trying to hit Murphy's legs, missing, and swatting Steve instead.

He had a feeling that after the first swat that had connected with Steve instead of him, Murphy had kept at it on purpose.

If he wasn't worried about getting hit in the wrong place, it'd be funny, but the odds were high Murphy or Mack was going get him good. 

"Could you- dammit Murphy- careful with your boots-" Steve complained, covering himself after nearly getting hurt. 

"Stop messing around back there!" Hammond ordered forcefully.

It was surprising he'd let it go on for so long, instead he'd waited until someone spoke up before shutting it down. Maybe working with this group was mellowing Hammond out just a little. Maybe, or maybe he knew he could only push them so far, so he was keeping himself in check.

Mack stopped abruptly, and wrapped his arms back around Addy's torso.

Murphy reluctantly settled down, pulled his knees to his chest, and planted the toes of his boots on Steve's thighs, heels digging into the seat cushion. If Murphy just sat the right way, this wouldn't be a problem, but Steve decided not to push the matter now that he'd finally stopped acting out.

The silence was drawn out, with Murphy sulking, Mack embarrassed, and Steve exhausted. Addy looked bored and full of energy, but Steve would just as soon nap if he there was any way he could doze off.

As it was, he was just relieved to have some space to breathe. His discomfort with tight spaces was nowhere near as bad as Murphy's phobia of Zs, but it wasn't great. 

Hammond pulled over once they reached a mess of cars, and Steve joined others' scavenging for gas and supplies while a few of them stood watch. Hammond kept Murphy under his direct supervision but it seemed like he trusted Steve enough to wander out of his direct line of sight. Might have had something to do with him finding his way back every time they got separated. 

Unprompted, Jameson followed after him. He left Jameson to check the gas for each car while he rummaged inside. For the most part the cars just had useless junk or boring useful supplies, but more than once he found something interesting. He bagged a few electronics without a word, particularly excited about the little window mounted solar panels with the power banks. 

"Any luck?" he called out to Jameson, and didn't get a response. Frowning, he climbed back out of the car they were working over, and saw that Jameson was watching Doc and the hitchhiker kid with him. 

"What? No, this one's dry too," Jameson said, shaking his head. "Are you done in there? There's a few more we can check..."

"Ah, yeah, might as well," Steve replied, "Pretty sure these have already been picked over though."

Maybe, but whoever did it was careless. The things they left behind were enough to make his day, especially once he found someone's stash of weed in the next car. Well, they wouldn't miss it now. Once he found that, he searched a little more thoroughly, and found a few more _interesting_ things in the usual hiding spots. Not anything he'd want, but he definitely could use it for a trade. 

"Steve, get out here, now," Jameson called, and Steve tensed at the alarm in the young man's voice. "We've got company."

The others were verbally grilling a young man that looked vaguely familiar, but Steve couldn't place him until he said something about his friends stealing his ride. One of those bikers that passed them by earlier. Something about him was making him uneasy, but the stranger was able to persuade Hammond and Garnett that he could help them find gas if they gave him a lift.

The only one that really protested was Murphy, but everyone seemed to have their guard up with the guy. He wasn't exactly endearing.

Neither was Murphy, though, so as usual they disregarded what he said.

Garnett and Warren took him in their truck and took the lead, so he could give them directions. Steve considered moving to the bus, but Addy and Mack beat him to it. Hammond took the wheel, Doc and the hitchhiker kid climbed into the back of the truck, quickly followed by Jameson. Murphy and Steve took the back seat, which left Cassandra to take shotgun.

"What's your name?" he asked her as they moved out again. "I'm Steve."

"Cassandra. Are we just gonna pick up every sketchy loser at every place we stop?"

"Well, we brought you along, didn't we?" Murphy retorted, from where it had looked like he was dozing on his side of the back seat. He didn't even bother opening his eyes to speak to her. "Besides, nobody consulted me."

"If we took your directions, we'd be dead by now," Hammond shot back. Steve raised his eyebrows at Hammond in the mirror, and saw the guy give a little half shrug. So far, Hammond barely reacted to Murphy besides to tell him to shut up, where to go, or what to do. He didn't engage with his complaining or - honestly, acknowledge his existence as anything other than 'the package' or one of the last hopes for humanity.

Either Hammond was starting to relax or he was about to lose his patience with Murphy.

Steve wouldn't be surprised if it was the latter, but he had a feeling it was the former. 

It wasn't long before they arrived at the refinery, which was a good thing because they were really running low on gas.

_"That's not a refinery, that's a zombie factory."_

Steve looked at Murphy with a twitch of his lips, and joined the others as they gathered around the vehicles to come up with a plan. He leaned against the truck, and left them to it.

He knew for a fact that he and Murphy weren't going to be involved. Hammond would make sure of that. They'd stay back with the kids. His opinion meant shit if he wasn't going to be the one risking his neck. 

The only thing that really got his attention was Cassandra's revelation that Zs liked high pitched sounds. Zs liked musical sounds. That was unexpected, and made him vaguely uneasy. It made him think of the fear the Zs had shown when he confronted them. Things weren't as cut and dry as it seemed.

It was strange but they were going to make it work for them. 

The next revelation was that the hitchhiker kid that had attached himself to the old man was calling himself Ten Thousand, and that he'd disappeared. Ten thousand. He hoped the kid didn't think he was a super hero or something. 

The final revelation was the expression on Hammond's face when Warren suggested filling up the tanker, that it was enough to get them to California. More than impressed, he looked like he was really seeing the people with them for the first time.

Everyone went to their assigned tasks, with Jameson guarding the school bus as usual.

That left Doc, Steven, and Murphy waiting in the suburban. Murphy and Doc played go fish, and Steve messed about with his electronic odds and ends. He attached the little solar panels to the windows, out of the way, and hooked them up to their power banks. 

"What are those supposed to be?" Murphy asked, eyeing them with some poorly concealed interest.

"Power, hopefully. Solar power," Steve replied, "Not a massive amount of energy but they're rechargeable. If they work. They _should_ work."

"Nice, kid," Doc said, impressed. "You could get a lot for something like that. Murphy, eights?"

"No, go fish," Murphy said, but - that was definitely a tell, tugging at his ear like that. He was lying. Steve rolled his eyes and returned his attention to his electronics.

The cards were keeping the others distracted from what might be happening at the refinery, and he preferred a Murphy trying to outsmart an old man at go fish than a Murphy stressing out over things he couldn't control. It couldn't last though. 

"First time I've ever seen anyone cheat at go fish," Doc said as he put his cards away. Steve shook his head.

"It's a gift," Murphy replied offhandedly, before demanding what the hell was taking everyone so long. The old man tried to reassure him, and to Steve's surprise Murphy opened up a little about his phobia he's had ever since he got bit. 

"I've been meaning to ask you about that that. So those bites..."

"Wait. What kinda doctor are you, anyway?" Murphy demanded suspiciously.

"I'm not really a doctor, more of an amateur pharmacologist," Doc admitted almost cheerfully, before asking how Murphy ended up being the 'savior of the human race.' Steve wasn't sure what he expected Murphy to say, but his outright lie that he had volunteered 'for the kids' wasn't it.

He leaned back in his seat, and tried not to give away his reaction, especially as the two of them went into more detail.

The more questions Doc asked, especially about how he'd gotten bitten, the more twitchy about it Murphy looked. There was a look in his eyes that had Steve worried. He needed to take over and give the man a break.

"That's when I piked half the fuckers," Steve spoke up abruptly. "Would've been faster, but I had to slip my restraints."

"Restraints?" Doc echoed. "You didn't volunteer, then?

Steve nodded. He would let Murphy have his secrets, if he wanted them, but he wasn't about to downplay what happened to him.

"I hacked the wrong thing, pissed off the wrong people, and they threw me in a dark hole for a - few years, I guess, so I wouldn't spread their secrets any further than I already had. Apparently that wasn't enough, though, because they remembered me when it was time for the vaccine trials and there wasn't enough - volunteers. I was - volunteered, by presidential fucking decree."

Steve remembered he hadn't told Murphy the whole story about that, yet. He half expected the man to demand the full story, but one look at Murphy made him realize that wasn't likely. The look on his face alone made a liar out of him. He remembered everything. 

"Damn, kid. You don't do things by half."

"Yeah. Anyway, I got free and started piking the Zs, and that's when Hammond showed up and took out the rest. He was totally about leave Murphy behind but I dug my heels in and told him - if he was going to turn he'd be turning already. So Hammond carried Murphy out of there, and what did he do when we met up with his team? He left me behind."

"Oh, you caught up with us," Murphy scoffed. "I don't know _how_ you found us, in the middle of the night in the woods, but you did it."

"Only to get left behind again on our way to New York. In a burning building. You know, if I didn't know better I'd think you guys were trying to get rid of me."

"Stevie boy, you know if push comes to shove Hammond's saving your hide, not mine," Murphy retorted. Steve was glad he'd gotten the man's full attention, because there were quite a few Zs roaming around the car. If he noticed them he'd start freaking out, and if he started freaking out, the Zs would be all over the suburban. 

"Stevie? Your name's Steve?" Doc asked, brow furrowing. "But that means your name's Steve Beck. Steven Beck?"

"Uh, yeah?"

"You can't be Steven Beck, _I'm_ Steven Beck!" 

Murphy stared at the two of them before he burst out laughing. "You have any grandkids out there, Doc?" he asked.

"No way! I'm not that old..." his eyes narrowed as he realized what he was suggesting. "I did have a kid when I was nineteen, but by now he'd be... thirty...ish?" 

"That's- you're-" Steve spluttered, for once without a quick retort.

He wanted to argue that Steve was a common name.

Beck was a pretty common name.

Steve Beck, though? He was sure there were more of them, but he only knew of one other.

The man he was named after.

He didn't want to ask, but he knew. His mom had said his dad was nineteen when they'd... Steve shook his head. This was too much. He'd found him now, in the middle of the fucking apocalypse?

Steve tried to recall the most recent picture his Mom had. She'd looked him up back in the nineties when Steve was in middle school. He looked older now, but he thought that it could be him. She'd told him that he 'still hadn't sobered up' and said they'd give him a chance when he gave sobriety a chance.

He'd only been eleven at the time and hadn't argued. 

"Steve? You're Steven Beck _Jr_ , aren't you?" the old man asked, gently.

"Mom aged better," was all he said, and Doc teared up. "I'm _not_ calling you Dad."

"That's- that's alright, kid. Is it really-"

"Yeah." 

"Are you serious?" Murphy asked, still laughing, looking between the two of them. "You _are_ serious. There's no way you're- oh. Blondie, looks like you're going to bald." 

Steve touched his hair absently, then looked across at the man in the passenger seat. 

"I... guess, it could be worse," he mumbled. "D-Doc pulls it off alright."

"Damn right I do. Oh, shh, looks like we've got some nosy neighbors."

Steve grimaced when Doc- when his father? pointed out the Zs. That was just what he'd been trying to avoid, and now the Zs were right up against the car. There was no way he was going to be able to get Murphy to calm down, and it was clear Doc was having no success. The only thing was to get rid of the Zs, or to get Murphy away from them. 

"There's only two of them," the old- his old man said, and got out of the car saying he'd draw them away and mercy them. Steve wanted to follow after him, make _sure_ that he was coming back, but Murphy was freaking out even worse. 

Murphy leaned into the front seat to lock the doors, and Steve swatted his hand. When that didn't put a stop to it, he grabbed him by his hands. 

"The Zs can't open the doors. Stop it- Murphy-" he told the struggling man, keeping him in the back seat. "Come on, Murphy, remember what I said?" 

"You say a lot of crap," Murphy retorted, but that was good. "We need to get out of here."

"Not yet," Steve replied, and climbed into the back seat with Murphy. "We're going to sit back here until Doc kills those Zs, and then he's going to take us further out from the distillery."

"Look- there's more- we've got to go-" 

"Shh. He's got it under control. We just gotta stay quiet." 

There were a lot more Zs, and Murphy was twisting around trying to find a way out. He lunged for the driver's seat again, and Steve got an elbow to the face trying to pull him back. He wrestled Murphy back onto the seat and straddled him. . The Zs seemed even more agitated by the action in the vehicles. Cracks were forming in the windows. Fuck.

"I won't let them hurt you, Murphy. I'll pike each of them myself if I have to. Don't forget, _I'm_ the one that pulled them off you..."

This time, he thought Murphy was actually listening. 

Then he saw one of the Zs drop. And another. Doc was piking one, it looked like Jameson was taking another one out with a knife, and another one sniped from - where? Doc gestured at a window excitedly, and Steve realized it was that kid. Ten Thousand. He was sniping the Zs one by one, quite efficiently. 

"Don't think I'm going to have to, this time. If I let you up, are you going to elbow me in the face again?"

"Uh... yes. I mean, no I won't," Murphy replied, and Steve hesitated. He really didn't want to get headbutted or something once he loosened his grip on the man. "I won't! I'm sorry I... probably gave you a black eye. It's already a bit... ugh, sorry."

Steve awkwardly sidled off Murphy, and decided the only way to give him space to get back up would be to climb back up front. That wasn't easy but he managed without hurting either of them. Much. 

"Urgh, could you _not_ step on me next time?"

"If there's going to be a next time, I'll do more than step on you," Steven shot back, and Murphy actually laughed. The last of the Zs were down, and the others were pulling up in a big tanker full of gas. This trip couldn't have gone better, black eye or not.

There was the usual musical chairs, and Steve waved Hammond over, "Check it out. We've got power. Can we adapt these to power your radio?"

"I don't know..." Hammond said uncertainly, frowning at the solar panels. 

Addy sidled over. "If you can't, I might be able to. I'm not bad with this sort of thing myself."

"That's what I like to hear," Hammond replied, "Once we put some miles between ourselves and this place, see what you can do."

"Yes sir," Addy replied cheekily, with a mock salute. There was a strange noise back from the distillery, and then a bang, and suddenly something came flying towards them. It planted itself right in a Z's skull. Addy let out an excited yell and snagged her treasured weapon triumphantly.

Steve grinned. When his new companions found their new 'Blue Sky,' there were a few he was going to miss. Like Addy. Like Doc, like his _Dad_. Was he going to stay behind, when Steve and Murphy went to California with Hammond? 

Oh.

How was the old man going to take it when he realized the kind of people Hammond was delivering his son to? Steve grimaced. Steve wanted to say he'd get lost with Murphy the moment they had the chance, but he was pretty sure he was going to go all the way to California. If there was a chance he was the cure, he had to go, even if he didn't trust the motives of the people involved. It was why he'd gotten in trouble in the first place. If he could help, if he could make a difference, he had to do it. He _had_ to.

He thought Doc would understand, in essence, but- he wouldn't want him to go either. Not to the same people who'd put him and Murphy through hell back in Portsmouth. Who else could they go to, though?

The only other option Steve knew might be out there was out of the question. It was the same people who'd been responsible for his imprisonment. The ones he'd hacked, whose info he'd leaked. He'd rather deal with some sleazy government doctors than the people from Zona. The people responsible for this whole nightmare. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Portrait of Steve is my art. Uh, I've got some more of him, of him and Murphy, and some other sketches in progress. Like something with Jameson in it! I've realized I haven't actually described Jameson yet. Um... I'll try and finish that one soon.


	7. Friends of Low Morals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Split point of view, this chapter, starting off with Jameson! I didn't originally plan on having him as a main character, but here we are. I finished up the picture of Jameson and 10K, hanging out on a bridge while waiting out another fire. Not exactly related to the chapter besides giving a visual for Jameson!

_10K & Jameson_

Jameson didn't like they were separating, but he understood why they were doing it. There was no way they were going to risk bringing either a school bus or the tanker into the city. That would just be careless, and Hammond didn't do careless. It was how they'd gotten this far.

He still didn't like it. 

He couldn't trust that he'd ever see them again. Not Hammond, who found him, or Beck, who _saved_ him... or that cute redhead, or that lanky guy around his age with the pretty eyes. He wouldn't mind not seeing Murphy again, but if something happened to Murphy, he wouldn't be able to get Beck out of this mess. 

Garnett was driving the tanker, and protecting the bus fell to Jameson. That left a tight feeling in his throat, but he wouldn't let anything happen to these kids. They were good kids, good kids that went through too much, seen too much. They looked after each other, kept the little ones occupied for the long hours on the road. He'd die before he let anything happen to them. 

He thought that the bus driver felt the same. She'd join him in fighting off the Zs if it came down to it. There were a few others that weren't fighters, though. There was no reason they couldn't fight, but they never joined in the action. Not even to defend themselves or the kids.

Jameson didn't get it, he just didn't get it. It wasn't just that they weren't fighting, they didn't even help scavenge for supplies, or help out with the kids. They just huddled in the back of the bus and shut everything out.

It was like they'd already given up, after Blue Sky. Maybe that was it. Maybe if they found a safe place for them, some peace and security they'd do better. 

He leaned back in his seat and sighed heavily. Beck had finally given him back his weapon, to help defend the kids. He didn't like leaving him without a good weapon going into the city, but he couldn't refuse something he might need to keep the kids safe.

A few of the teenagers took the seat across from him. They took turns looking after the baby now. They were good for a fight, too. Whichever one didn't have their hands full with the lil guy, at least. They didn't have a real name for him or anything, so they came up with silly nicknames for him instead, like Goblin and Goober. He really didn't want to get attached to the kid if they were going to have to leave him behind, but... it was hard. It was hard to avoid caring about people.

He didn't know how people could just _not care._

Like Murphy. He didn't care about anyone. He didn't get why Beck was so attached to the creep. That wasn't just jealousy, either, though... it did get to him. He'd do anything for the big oaf, and he didn't think Murphy would do shit for him. He'd stand there and watch if he was drowning. 

Maybe he was being too harsh, but he'd think better of Murphy if the asshole did literally _anything_ for anyone else when it didn't benefit him somehow.

He slumped in his seat and looked out the window while the driver took them the long way around the city to the meet-up point. He wished Hammond had insisted that Murphy and Beck couldn't risk going into the city, but apparently he needed something to contact his man at Northern Light and didn't trust Jameson enough to look after the Saviors of Humanity without him. Hammond thought it was a necessary risk, but Jameson didn't have to like it.

He didn't have to like getting separated or having to wait at a designated location. He didn't have to like his orders to move on with the Garnett and the kids if they didn't show up before nightfall. 

As time stretched on, and on, he knew something happened.

Something always happened. They were going to have to leave without Hammond and Beck, and he wasn't sure if he could do it.

Not even for the kids, not even little Goober.

His stomach twisted, and he peered out the windows like he would have missed them driving up.

Maybe he wasn't any better than the people who'd given up, if losing one or two more people was all it took for him to throw in the towel. He squared his shoulders and gripped his weapon. He could do this. He'd take care of these people, because he had to, because no one else would do it. 

That didn't mean he wouldn't break down the moment he was alone.

* * *

Addy was the only one that wasn't ready to just leave. 

After Cassandra went back to the place, to the people that terrified her so much. Steve had to clench his hands into fists to hide the way they shook.

After a few moments of hesitation, Warren agreed with her, but Hammond shook his head, saying they couldn't risk everything for one girl who, as Murphy had pointed out, was a fucking cannibal. 

Steve ignored Murphy's question of whether it was a _chick thing,_ although it made him want to knock that grin off his face.

"If we don't go back for her," he told Hammond directly, starting off quietly but voice rising with every word, "You're going to have to fight me _every_ step of the way to California. You'll have to watch me every second. _We are not leaving her_."

"This is the hill you're gonna die on? Saving a cannibal?" Murphy asked, looking disgruntled and downright confused.

"I can't- we can't-" Steve shook his head, frustrated he couldn't articulate what he wanted to say, and sickened by the callousness of the group. He half expected it from Murphy, but the others? They acted like they cared about people.

Even Doc was just staring at him. There was sympathy in his eyes, but the old man didn't speak up.

He didn't want his sympathy, he wanted him to back him up!

Steve took a step back from the group, and folded his arms. "If you're not going to help, you're going to have to fucking drag me to California."

Hammond couldn't do it. Not without a full team behind him, and Jameson would take Steve's side.

Hammond might not realize it yet, but Steve knew it.

"I could just take Murphy and go. I don't need both of you," Hammond said tightly. He didn't expect resistance like this from Steve, he was used to Steve doing whatever was asked of him without complaint. This had to be a nasty shock.

It shouldn't have been.

Not if he'd paid any attention to the kind of person he was.

"Yeah. You could. It would- mitigate the risk," Steve replied just as tightly. "Go ahead. I'll deal with the cannibals _myself_ , and I don't know, I'll go find my Mom and- the hell with you."

"Beck, there's no way she's alive."

"Hammond, there's no one more likely to be alive," Steve replied, twisting his lips into something that didn't resemble a smile in the least. He didn't care anymore. Everyone could know, for all it mattered. "She's known and planned for the zombie virus for two years before the fucking outbreak. That woman was ready to get the whole neighborhood involved in community defense by the time I got thrown in that fucking cell."

Now he had everyone's attention.

"That's- no one knew about the virus before the outbreak-" Hammond protested.

Hammond didn't know. He hadn't known. Steve hadn't thought he would, but - there was always the chance he'd been one of the people involved with Zona. That he was in on it. They'd had their fingers in everything.

"No? Plenty of people knew about it. People who were completely fucking untouchable. I thought otherwise, but that was just- _hopelessly naïve._ They shut me down quick. Erased all the proof, and threw me in a fucking hole, but not before I told- the people I care about- what to prepare for."

Steve shook his head at the gobsmacked expressions on their faces. He was still furious, and for once didn't care about how they might feel. Didn't care if Murphy would throw a fit and make things harder for Hammond when it sunk in that the government had known about the virus. That the government knew and didn't warn anyone, they let it happen, and then they used the two of them as test subjects years later when it was too fucking late to fix it.

They were reeling. Hammond looked sick, Murphy was still processing what it meant, and - Doc climbed out of the truck and joined his son, Warren, and Addy. After a moment, Ten Thousand followed the old man. That left Murphy, Hammond, and Mack.

Hammond finally nodded. 

"I want to say- I don't think you're wrong about wanting to do this, I just can't risk losing both of you. I'm taking Murphy to the- designated meeting point," the soldier told him, decisively. To the others, he added, "Whoever else feels the need to join Beck's rescue party, do what you need to. We'll move on at nightfall, with or without you."

After a moment's hesitation, Mack joined the others, went to stand by Addy. He'd already made it clear he wanted nothing to do with the rescue. He was still outraged at what happened with Addy and wouldn't listen to her, but he joined them anyway. There was no way he'd leave Addy's side. 

Steve would have preferred it if Mack had gone with Murphy and Hammond. He cared more about his feelings about her than what she wanted or needed from him. It wasn't cute, and reeked stronger of possessiveness than a simple protective streak.

More to the point, it was a problem. If he lost control every time he got emotional about someone putting Addy in danger, _he_ was a problem. It was a problem that would have to wait until later, though, until Cassandra was safe, until they were all safe.

Warren came up with a plan rather quickly. He was starting to realize she was the real brains of this group, between this and getting the tanker. It relied on Citizen Z being willing to help, but it would work. Assuming they could get through the gates, that Ten Thousand was as good a shot as he thought, and that- Cassandra and Doc were still alive by the time they got there.

Warren's idea was solid. It _might_ get them all killed, but it they'd bring the cannibals down with them at the very least. 

He was worried about sending in Doc, but he couldn't argue when the man volunteered to play one of the most dangerous roles in the rescue. He'd wanted him to help, he couldn't be upset because the help he offered was too dangerous. Well, he could be upset, but he couldn't say anything about it without sounding like a total hypocrite and possibly losing support in carrying out this half-cocked rescue. 

Citizen Z was surprised to hear from him rather than Hammond but accepted that Hammond had left Steve behind for a third time- intentionally this time. He was happy to lend a hand in the rescue and encouraged Steve to keep in contact with him whether or not he planned on joining up with Hammond again.

If he could be sure ‘Citizen Z’ wasn’t involved with Zona, he’d be more reassured. He gave an affirmative before letting him go, regardless- if the man was working for the enemy, no need to give away that he suspected it.

Steve watched the Zs following them in the rear view as Warren drove, blasting Ride of the Valkyries all the way from the city. He might not fully trust Citizen Z but he had style.

The sight of the Zs chasing after them was fantastic, and – while the others might have found it alarming he only found it vaguely entertaining. It’s not like they were dangerous to him. He felt a little bad that he found it so funny, but he couldn't let himself dwell on that. There wasn't much in the apocalypse to make light of, and if he didn't find something to laugh at once in a while he'd be in rough shape.

Especially since their chances of surviving this weren't great. If that kid that called himself Ten Thousand didn't take out the gunner, they were completely fucked.

So he focused on the way the Zs followed them like the most disturbing version of the Pied Piper in history, and tried to keep his amusement to himself. His companions probably wouldn't find it half as funny. Some of them might get mad, and Addy was worried, it wouldn't be appropriate to laugh at the way the Zs looked while chasing them.

Eventually he just buried his face in his hands for a few moments until he could get his face under control. 

What finally put an end to the near hysterical laughter that was threatening to escape was the reminder that if this all went to shit, his dad would be one of the first to die. He'd just found him, after thirty years. He'd barely started to get to know him. He'd accepted at some point he'd never meet him, never get to know him, losing him now that they finally had a chance would hurt. He liked the weird old hippy. He didn't want to see him die. He didn't want to have to mercy him.

Warren accelerated as they got closer to the gates. 

Steven braced for the impact, they hit the gates, and crashed through the other side. The gate was no obstacle. They came to a grinding stop, and the Zs streamed in after them. In moments the air was full of shouting and gunfire. He started breathing again, after realizing he was holding his breath. For several long moments there was no sign of Doc or Cassandra. If they didn't show up, the others would leave. He knew it, though they hadn't said so. If their plan failed, they'd drive off, mourn their dead, and move on. 

He wouldn't. He'd get out of the truck, and find them. If they were dead, he'd mercy them. If they were alive, he'd get them the hell out. He was the only one here that could walk through those Zs without a care. There were the humans to worry about, but they were focused on the Zs-

The banging on the side of the truck alerted him and he shut off the music. They made it, they were alive.

They were alive, they had another chance, _his Dad was alive._

Warren peeled off, leaving the Zs and cannibals in their dust. 

* * *

When the truck rolled up, and only Hammond and Murphy were inside, Jameson went numb. 

He went to meet them outside of the bus, holding his weapon loosely at his side.

He knew it was a bad idea to separate.

He knew he shouldn't trust anyone to look out for Beck but himself.

Hammond briefed him, gave him new orders, and Jameson just stared at him. Garnett's questions and Murphy's harsh, sarcastic responses were just background noise.

They didn't matter. 

"No," Jameson said quietly, but Hammond kept on talking about them heading out with Murphy. Louder, he told the solider, "I'm not _going_. Not without Beck." 

"Jameson, get in the tanker. That's an order, solider."

"I'm not a solider," Jameson snapped back.

As soon as the words escaped him, he flinched.

This wasn't how he wanted to tell Hammond, but he couldn't take it back. It was something they've never really gotten into, something Hammond had never questioned.

He'd just found Jameson at the abandoned outpost, wearing a uniform, and he'd assumed he was a solider.

Jameson never argued it, never mentioned the name on his jacket wasn't his. Never explained what happened. 

It didn't look like Hammond was going to give him a chance to explain now. The expression on his face was dire.

"What? Steal the uniform off a dead man, then?" 

"No, he was alive-" Jameson protested. 

"When I found you at the outpost, you weren't defending it, you were just scavenging-"

Distaste drew across Hammond's face with a heavy brush, and he ignored Jameson's continued protests.

"Garnett, you've got ten minutes to fill up the school bus and the truck," Hammond continued, talking over Jameson. "I'm taking the tanker to get Murphy to California. Take care of your people. Once you've found a place, contact Citizen Z, when we have a vaccine he'll get you in touch with the right people." 

Hammond turned on his heel, grabbed Murphy by the arm and pushed him towards the cab of the tanker.

Jameson took a step after him.

Garnett put a hand on his shoulder and Jameson stopped, let his head drop, let his shoulders slump.

"Give me a hand getting fueled up, kid, that bus was getting low," the older man told him, and Jameson let him propel him towards the vehicles.

He listened to Garnett speak to the bus driver, and then tossed the keys to the truck to Jameson to bring it into range to fill up. Garnett stood by and fueled up the vehicles, and then signaled the others to move aside to let Hammond through.

Garnett's expression was unreadable as they watched the tanker get smaller in the distance. 

"So if you're not Jameson, what's your name?" Garnett asked, after a few moments of silence.

"Doesn't matter. Jameson- he was the recruiter at my high school. When he was called back onto active duty, when he heard our neighborhood was being left to the Zs, he smuggled me out in one of his spare uniforms."

The words wouldn't stop, he couldn't stop.

He'd never told anybody.

Nobody except Jameson knew, and he'd died during black summer.

"No one questioned it, but they had to have noticed the uniform didn't fit me, that we had the same name- they didn't care. They needed all the bodies they could get, and I followed orders-" 

He'd wanted to help people, and Jameson had assured him the best way to help people was to follow orders, but it was hard to believe that as the bodies piled up. They weren't saving anybody. They couldn't save anybody, not even themselves.

This time he wasn't going to let that happen. He wasn't leaving without Beck and the others.

What was the point of making some vaccine humanity if they left everyone to die along the way? Who were they saving?

"If you want to keep using it... I don't think he'd mind," Garnett told him, quietly. 

Jameson nodded, unable to speak through the lump in his throat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone reading this far, and a big thank you to flashforeward and eviladmin for their continued encouragement! The support and feedback has really motivated my writing, and I really appreciate it <3
> 
> I've already split what was originally going to be chapter six into three chapters since I started it, so there's two mostly finished chapters ready to go after this. My tablet is getting sent in for repairs or to be replaced... with two weeks left of the semester, right before finals week. Good news is it died on me ten days before the end of my warranty and not ten days after!! And!! my housemate is willing to share his textbook files, so I'm kinda lucky in a weird way.


	8. In the Dead of Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group stops for the night but not everyone can take the opportunity to relax.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They replaced my art tablet instead of fixing it and this one works so much better than the other one ever did, even before it starting acting glitchy! AND!! Only two exams left and I'll be done with the semester! <3 Very happy rn. Hope you like the chapter.

The sun was low in the sky as Warren drove through Philly towards their meet up point but there were still hours before nightfall. They still had time.

Steve relaxed as they approached the destination. He leaned back in his seat, and couldn’t help but watch Mack’s reaction as Addy clung to Cassandra. He didn't look angry or frustrated anymore, he looked desperately sad. Like he realized how far he'd pushed Addy away when he'd lashed out at Cassandra, when he tried to get the group to abandon her.

Maybe- maybe that was a good thing. He was paying attention. Maybe he could learn to do better, to be better. Honestly it could go one of two ways, and Steve hoped it was that one for everyone's sake.

"Is this the right place?" Steve asked, confused, but it had to be the place. The school bus and the truck was there, but the tanker was gone. They pulled up slowly, and found Garnett leaning against the side of the truck, with Jameson slumped in the front seat.

As they gathered around, Jameson got out of the truck, and shoved his hands in his pockets. 

"Hammond- he left with Murphy," he told them. "We're- on our own."

_We're on our own._

Steve found himself at a loss for words. He knew he'd told Hammond to leave without him, he knew Hammond said that he would, but he'd fully expected him to wait until nightfall like they'd originally planned. He wasn't sure what the next step was. Murphy was gone. He didn't know where they were going, he didn't know if he could find them again.

It left him feeling strange, like he was deep underwater. 

Jameson wouldn't say anything else about what exactly happened. He looked as troubled as Steve felt.

Garnett filled them in, instead.

"Hammond said he's headed to California without us. He kindly _allowed_ us fill up the truck and the bus, and left with the tanker and Murphy," Garnett told them. He was clearly pissed off. Of course he was. This wasn't what they'd agreed to. This was going to make everything a hell of a lot harder on him, on all of them. He had questions of his own. "What the hell happened back there? He was going on about insubordination and cannibals before he left."

"Addy was kidnapped by the people I- survived with during Black Summer," Cassandra spoke up, then fell silent and looked away. After how Mack and Warren reacted when they'd realized she'd known the people who'd taken Addy, no wonder.

"She convinced them to let me go and take her instead. Even though- they were- awful-" Addy's face crumpled and she buried her face in Cassandra's shoulder again. Cassandra wrapped an arm around her and held her close. Mack lingered a few paces away, like he wanted to say something but had realized he'd just upset Addy further. He had some self control, then.

"Hammond wanted to just leave her," Warren finished for them, and nodded to Steve. "We wouldn't leave without her, and Steve told Hammond to take Murphy and go on ahead to, what was it? Mitigate the risk. He _said_ ," she added with annoyance, "He'd wait here 'til nightfall, like we'd planned."

Garnett seemed to accept that explanation. Although he didn't seem happy about losing the tanker, they weren't the ones trying to get to California. Hammond was going to need it a lot more than they did, though... keeping the school bus fueled was going to be difficult. They might have to settle for a poorly situated 'safe haven' just due to the risks involved in moving the kids around. It wasn't safe on the road, and not just because of the zombies roaming the country.

"Thanks for waiting for us, kid," Doc said, and patted Jameson on his shoulder. "What's your next move?" 

With that, the young man visibly pulled himself together. 

"I... guess that depends on what Beck's planning," Jameson replied, shrugging like it didn't matter anymore. "Last he's said, he was still all for saving humanity, even if we all suck."

Steve surfaced from the mess of thoughts and feelings he'd lost himself in. He did want to help, he wanted to save everyone somehow, but he wasn't sure what to do. He wasn't sure what they could do without getting caught up in Zona's net. He ran a hand through his hair, and sighed.

"That's one way of putting it," Steve said, before tackling the important part. "I think... we should find a safe place for our friends and go from there. I'd like to go check on my Mom and make sure she's got things under control back home. After that, I've got no idea. I'm, uh, not planning that far ahead anymore. If Citizen Z can get us in contact with a doctor besides Merch, I'd like that. Those vaccines they tested on us killed all the other patients outright. Fuck her."

The others didn't seem to have an argument with that. What problem would they have with it? It put their needs first, reassured them he wasn't giving up on a vaccine, and he was making it not their problem. He wasn't asking anything of them. Couldn't turn out better for them.

"Let's head out," Garnett said. "I'd like to put as many miles between us and Philly as we can before we rest for the night." 

They piled back in the trucks, and Steve stared out the window.

He was still angry with Murphy, with the things he said, but he hadn't wanted this. He didn't regret saving Cassandra, but he did regret suggesting that Hammond go on ahead so flippantly. He hadn't wanted to leave Murphy to face this alone.

Night fell sooner than he expected.

Progress slowed down and they proceeded with caution until they found a likely place to camp.

No one suggested pressing on or trying to catch up to Hammond, not even Steve. He wanted to, he could practically feel them getting left further and further behind. He couldn't ignore the feeling, but he didn't have to whine about it to the others. Hammond made his decision, and Murphy hadn't protested, hadn't said a damn thing about leaving them. If he'd said something, anything at all... Steve wasn't sure what he could have done, what he would have done, but he wouldn't be content to rest until he'd found him again. 

The kids were monitored as they got out and stretched, got a little physical activity in after being cooped up in the bus for so long. The past few days hadn't been good for them, the long cramped hours on the road and the difficulties getting enough supplies for everyone on the road.

Steve stayed by the small fire, and stared into it while Doc did what he could to prepare food and try to make sure there'd be enough to go around. The portions weren't big, but no one went without. No one would be full, but no one would go to bed hungry either. 

"You don't eat enough," the old man complained when Steve barely touched his portion, choosing to give it most of it to one of the kids that was being fussy. They hadn't expected to get any more food, and went thankfully quiet. They had been getting shrill enough that he'd been worried they were going to draw Zs to the camp. 

Steve shrugged, but realized that he wasn't going to be able to shrug off his Dad's concerns that easily. "I don't get that hungry anymore. After the vaccine. I don't think I need as much," he told him awkwardly, trying to keep his voice down. He wasn't certain about the second part of his explanation, but it was true he didn't get that hungry.

A little food now and then _seemed_ to keep him feeling alright. Doc still seemed concerned, though. 

"Just 'cause you're not hungry doesn't mean you don't need to eat, s- Steve," Doc said, real quiet, and Steve decided then and there if he would have to at least try to eat so long as the old man was watching. And- honestly, if anyone else had told Steve what Steve told Doc, he'd have said the same thing or close enough.

"I know. I'll try, alright. I just- those kids-" Steve started then shrugged.

Doc understood. Even in the firelight it was clear on his face.

At least, he understood enough. None of them really understood what was happening with him. They didn't know enough about the side effects. They didn't know shit about the side effects. Murphy's were more noticeable, though they hadn't seen him before he'd been injected with the vaccine and bitten.

He'd gone downhill so much in the past year. The road hadn't been easy on any of them, but Steve didn't think that was the problem.

He'd wondered over the past year if Murphy's slow deterioration was because of the vaccine or the bites. It had to be one or the other. If Steve had been bitten if he would be losing teeth too, or if their vaccines were different enough that he'd be fully recovered in Murphy's place. Or - maybe he'd be dead.

He didn't try to start up the conversation again once it fizzled out, and neither did the old man.

Neither of them minded the silence too much.

It left Steve alone with his thoughts, but at least he wasn't expected to share them. Every line of thought came back to Murphy in the end. Not that it came to a surprise to Steve. It would have been stranger if it hadn't been the case. Over the past year they'd been practically glued to each others side. He'd kept Murphy out of trouble, and Murphy kept him distracted.

Now there was nothing to distract him from his racing thoughts, they mostly consisted of Murphy. Not even just the expected ones about the dangers ahead of them but- thoughts about their time together since Portsmouth. The days had bled together.

The summer had been like a fever dream of death, heat, and getting rushed from danger into danger, with barely a moment to breathe at the occasional outpost to resupply. The autumn had been more tolerable for long hours traveling on foot, but the safe havens had gotten fewer and further between. The dead outnumbered the living, and running into other survivors became unusual.

New England winter had put a stop to their travel. Steve had been certain they'd all freeze to death before they starved. The truth was, they'd lost men both ways that winter but less than they'd lost to Zs or desperate survivors over the summer.

Hammond had tried to push onward for a while, until they were forced to stop by a snowstorm. They hadn't been able to see more than a few paces ahead, and almost hadn't found their way to shelter before the cold did them in.

Hammond and his men had their work cut out for them to keep them fed through the long, cold winter. Steve and Murphy were left behind in their shelter, protected from the biting wind and huddled together for warmth. 

Steve absently plucked the sparse grass on the ground between him and the fire. They'd spent a lot of time wrapped together in each other's warmth, left to their own devices sometimes for days at a time. If Hammond had suspected there was more to their closeness than necessity he hadn't said anything.

If Murphy meant anything by it he hadn't said anything either.

It had been a long winter. There hadn't been much to do, and Murphy cheated at pretty much any game imaginable. That got old pretty quick. It hadn't just been the boredom, though. Not for Steve.

He wasn't sure if Murphy realized that, because he hadn't been any more forthcoming about things like feelings than Murphy. He hadn't just been a way to pass the time. It might have started out that way, and as a way to prove to themselves they were alive.

Being with Murphy didn't just remind Steve he was alive, it gave him a reason for living. 

He had a feeling if he said as much, Murphy wouldn't laugh.

No, Murphy would get a look of panic in his eyes. 

Maybe it was a good thing he kept his feelings to himself, it made things simpler at the time for both of them, but now he was troubled about it because he couldn't shake the feeling that they weren't going to see each other again. 

Steve sighed and stretched out on the grass. It was going to be a long night, but he needed to get some sleep while he could. The past few days had been rough, and he hadn't gotten more than a few hours sleep here and there. It was wearing him down, it was going to slow him down. It was going to get him killed. 

* * *

It wasn't uncommon for Jameson to take watches others might not like. He slept easily during the long drives, even when the kids in the bus got loud. He could sleep through just about anything. Others needed silence and somewhere to stretch out, and he wanted them fresh if they needed to fight at his side. That was it, it wasn't just an excuse to spend time with 10K.

It was also an excuse to spend time with 10K, though.

Was he admitting that to anyone? Nope. 

It wasn't just that 10K was good looking, and single unlike Addy. It helped, sure, he wasn't immune to a handsome face, but that wasn't enough to do it for Jameson Mack was good looking enough, but his attitude put Jameson off. If it was just about looks- there weren't many people in the group that was unattractive. Even Murphy looked like he'd clean up nice. Doc was way too old, but if he'd looked anything like Steve when he was younger- 

Okay, Jameson didn't need to think about that. Or about how Steve looked. He didn't need to fuel that stupid crush. Steve liked older men. So much for that.

10K was safer to crush on. He liked the awkward guy. He was weird, but not like creepy weird. He just had a different perspective to things, and that was interesting. And more to the point, he didn't seem to notice the crush. He was good to hang out with, and there was no expectations, just a comfortable silence and sometimes a few thoughtful exchanges. The young man was quiet, and the more people were involved the less he spoke up. When it was just the two of them, he was more inclined to speak his mind.

Jameson had a feeling that he might stick with them when they moved on from the main group. The chances increased if the old man joined them, and he'd heard that he was Steve's long lost father so- chances were good. 

It was easier to let himself get to know someone, to get attached, if they weren't going to go their separate ways the first chance they got. He liked his chances.

Even if they weren't compatible for romancey stuff, he needed people. He didn't do well on his own for a long time. He hadn't realized how much it got to him until everyone ran off or died on him.

He'd been alone for so long before Hammond found him. 

It didn't hurt that the guy was impressive with his chosen weapons, the entire array of them. He wasn't going to die on him anytime soon. He could look out for himself, he could rely on him. It was like- it was probably part of why he'd zeroed in on Addy. She had that scary looking weapon and looked like she knew how to use it. 

Yeah, those early days of the apocalypse had given him some hang ups, but everyone had their apocalypse related issues now. It'd be almost worrying if they didn't, if someone didn't it probably meant they were repressing everything. That was likely to end up in tears, and blood...

He sighed, and leaned back on the roof of the school bus. Head tilted back, he actually looked at what was spread out above them. It was breathtaking. He'd seen pictures of what space was supposed to look like, but he'd been lucky to see a few scattered stars through the light pollution. 

"We couldn't see stars like this back home," he said quietly. "Probably could now, if anyone's alive."

He hadn't volunteered much about his past, not any more than 10K. He didn't think he'd get anything in return. It wasn't like that. 

10K pointed at something in the sky. "That one's a planet. You see, there-" 

For a moment Jameson wasn't sure what he was supposed to be looking at, but then he saw a reddish light in the sky, bigger and brighter than the stars around it. He smile in the dark. "Yeah. I see..." he let himself relax for a little longer before getting back into position. They had people relying on them. They had to keep watch. 10K faced away from camp, the road, and across the road, while Jameson watched the camp itself and off into the fields beyond it. They sat almost back to back, but not quite. It would be more comfortable, but they'd get too comfortable. Might fall asleep that way.

"You think that little robot on Mars is still working?" he spoke up again after remembering the Mars rover. "Curiosity. It was only up there a few years before..."

He couldn't see 10K's expression, and there wasn't an answer for a while. He wasn't very chatty, but Jameson was usually good at keeping to topics that 10K was willing to talk about. Sometimes he missed the mark, but he didn't think that the little rover was one of them.

"It's probably not doing anything. I don't-" 10K stopped, then admitted, "I don't know. Citizen Z probably knows."

"Yeah..." Jameson considered asking the mysterious man about the rover. He'd never actually gotten to talk to Citizen Z. It was always Hammond. He was a little jealous that the others had gotten to talk to their eyes in the sky. Oh well. They'd get in contact with him again sometime, and maybe he'd ask. Maybe C.Z. was sad about the little robot forgotten all alone on Mars. Maybe not. Citizen Z was all alone at Northern Light, himself. "I don't know if I could do that. Stay alone out there, all that time," he said, half to himself, half to 10K.

"It's a robot, Jameson," was the puzzled response he got, and he realized he hadn't said anything about Citizen Z. 

"C.Z. He's alone out there too, at Northern Light, for a year now. I- was just alone a few months after we were overrun. I _couldn't_ -"

"Oh," was all 10K said, before saying, "I'm used to being alone. Except for Pa, but he went off on his own sometimes once I was old enough to look after myself. You get used to it after a while..."

It was Jameson's turn to get quiet. He could easily imagine 10K all alone in some cabin, days or weeks at a time. He could imagine that would be an incredibly lonely life, but 10K seemed like he missed his old life as much as anyone else. He missed his Dad. He never mentioned anyone else. No wonder it was taking him so long to get comfortable with the boisterous group they'd fallen in with. He almost didn't hear 10K's next words, he wasn't sure if they were meant to be heard, but they warmed him in the cool night air. 

_"It's nice to have company though."_

* * *

The fire burned low, and Steve's head nodded, his eyes closed-

-And his head bounced against something hard. He grumbled under his breath, and pillowed his head with his arm to protect his sore skull. It was too late, though, he was awake. He could feel the rumble of the engine, and that was confusing enough. He didn't think he slept heavily enough that someone carry him somewhere without waking him up. He yawned, stretched, and opened his eyes. 

It was still dark, but that didn't hide one very obvious fact. He wasn't in the right truck. Steven turned quickly, and it was Hammond driving. Driving the tanker. Had he been waiting just ahead, and once the camp fell asleep- sneak in and- wait, where was Murphy? There was no one else in the cab of the truck. This didn't make any damn sense.

The road passed by quickly in the darkness. He couldn't see much besides his reflection. His- Murphy's- reflection. Steve touched his face, his eyes, his nose, his mouth, his chin- what? This- had to be a dream. He'd been so worried about Murphy, his subconscious decided to throw this in his face.

He really wanted to believe that, but even as he thought it he knew it was bullshit. The problem with it was that he could feel the ache where he'd hit his head on the window, he could feel a twinge in his neck from the position he'd been sleeping, and he could feel the hunger. The kind of hunger Steven never really felt anymore. 

_Murphy_?

Nothing. He had no problems moving Murphy's body around. No resistance.

There was no sign of him. He wasn't sure what he'd expected. 

Nothing except that feeling. That feeling that Murphy was getting further and further away, only now he was leaving him behind instead of the other way around. No. He was leaving his body behind! Steven panicked. His throat went tight, and he struggled with the door handle.

He had to go back. This was- this was bad. Really really bad. He felt it in his bones.

"Murphy- what the hell are you doing?!" Hammond yelled, putting the breaks on. It wasn't exactly easy to stop a full sized tanker going at full speed.

Steven stopped trying to open the door and instead hoped that he wasn't about to die in Murphy's body, miles away from his own. _What would happen if I died?_ The thought made him feel ill. He clutched the handle above the door, and held on for dear life as they Hammond tried to regain control of the massive truck. 

"I'm gonna be sick," he said out loud, as Hammond was still talking at him. At Murphy. Had to give him some kind of explanation, and he might not be lying. His body was reacting to the stress and he couldn't handle it. If this was what Murphy dealt with when overwhelmed he felt for the man. 

Once the truck came to a stop, Steve practically fell out of the door.

He stumbled a few paces and started retching uncontrollably at the side of the road. The road grit dug into the palms of his hands, and the sharp pain grounded him. He slowly regained control of his breathing. 

Hammond came around quickly, and stood guard with his weapon. He didn't seem surprised at how 'Murphy' was acting, which was odd because Steven hadn't seen Murphy getting sick like this. Had they been hiding it from him all along, or was it something that had just started since they'd been separated in the fires?

"We've got to go back," Steven told him, desperately. They were leaving Murphy behind, they were leaving his body behind. He could feel the distance. It wasn't just in his head. He could feel the distance, and it felt like something that might snap. Something was going to break if they went any further.

"Not happening. You're getting worse. We can't wait on them any more. They'll have to look after themselves," Hammond replied. "Are you done? Get back in-"

Steven took off, running back the way they'd came. He didn't know how far away they were from where the others' set up camp, but he didn't care. He was going to get back there and find a way to fix this before something terrible happened.

Murphy's body wasn't up to the task.

It wasn't used to being pushed so hard, and it was older, weaker, and the scars ached. Steve hadn't realized how much they ached, that they were barely healed even now. How much pain Murphy was in on a daily basis, because he hadn't dealt with the Zs fast enough. 

It seemed like forever, running with burning muscles and burning lungs, but only moments passed before he heard footsteps hitting the pavement behind him. He tried to put on speed, but the body didn't respond like his would have. It didn't have that extra burst of speed to give, it had never run cross country, it didn't have that muscle memory- it didn't have the remnants of stamina-

Hammond caught him easily, grabbed him roughly by the arm. 

"What the hell are you thinking? You want to get torn apart by the Zs? Because that's how you get torn apart by Zs, Murphy," Hammond told him, marching him back towards the tanker.

Steven struggled as Hammond shoved him back into the cab of the truck, but it was useless. Hammond was stronger, and Murphy's body wasn't up for another escape attempt. And- Hammond was right. He could have gotten himself killed. He could have gotten Murphy killed. 

He had to figure out another way to fix this. He had to wake up- or he had to fall back asleep. That's what happened. He'd fallen asleep and woke up in Murphy's body. Somehow. Fuck if he knew how, but he'd bet bullets that it had to do with the damn vaccines. 

He really hoped Murphy wasn't causing trouble with the others, with _his_ body.

Like taking off running alone in the dark, with nothing to defend against Zs? 

Steve shook his head- no, Murphy might say something rude, he might upset someone, but he wasn't going to put him in danger. The man cared too much about self preservation, and that was likely to include whatever body he happened to be inside that the time. 

He sulked as they took off again. It was nice to indulge in sulking, and it was practically expected in Murphy. Totally in character. 

It occurred to him that he could tell Hammond, but he wasn't sure what would be worse: Hammond believing him, or thinking he was trying to pull something. 

No, he was going to keep this to himself. What he needed to do was find a way to get back to his body. Only, it wasn't easy to fall asleep because he desperately needed to. The harder he tried, the more wide awake he felt.

Hammond hopped back into the driver's seat, and locked the doors. Hammond stared him right in the eyes, and Steve automatically raised his chin slightly, prepared for the lecture that was coming. It didn't come. Hammond was scrutinizing him, like he was a damn puzzle. He was acting out of character for Murphy. That had to be it. 

"Murphy, you have to be my top priority. Beck made his decision. You said he found his father, and he's part of that group? He's going to stay behind with them. He might not know it yet, but I know it and you know it. Why do you keep fighting me on it?"

Hammond said 'keep fighting him' - that meant it wasn't just Steve. Murphy had already fought Hammond about leaving them behind. He wanted to go back. Steve smiled at Hammond, which just confused the man. It wasn't Murphy's usual sarcastic smirk, and definitely wasn't in line with how he acted when he didn't get his way.

Steven no longer had to wonder, he knew enough. He wasn't going to leave Murphy to his fate when Hammond dumped him in California. He wasn't sure what he was going to do, but he wasn't going to leave them to it.

Hammond thought that he was the one responsible for saving the world, but that weight didn't belong to him. It belonged to Murphy, and it belonged to him. 

"He's not going to just- leave me to deal with this alone," Steve said, turning away from Hammond and looking out the window. It was dark and difficult to see any landmarks. "But you're right. We can't go back. He'll have to catch up." 

Murphy was in good hands til then. He'd figure this out. Either he'd catch up to Murphy or Murphy would catch up to him. He wasn't sure how he was going to get back to his body, but he was finally calm again. He'd almost given up when he felt a strange sensation from _elsewhere_. 

His vision wavered, although his eyes- Murphy's eyes- were wide open. 

That feeling, the feeling that something was going to snap, grew stronger, and then-

He was sprawled on the ground, by the dim embers of a dying fire. He was cold. The others were asleep, or keeping watch. No one paid him any mind.

During all that, Murphy just stayed by the fire? Steven had a hard time believing that. Murphy didn't do quiet, he did loud and outspoken and attention seeking-

His eyes fell to the hard packed ground beside him. It was hard to make out the words, but Murphy had scratched something into the earth. He'd left him a message. It was nearly indecipherable in the darkness, the dimly flickering light making the shadows shift. Eventually he thought he knew what it was supposed to say.

_Find me._

Steven traced the letters. 

The feeling that something was going to break, the tension of the distance about to snap was gone.

Something was there, but there was nothing to it beyond a vague awareness. He shifted in the darkness, and sat up. Doc had fallen asleep on the other side of the fire.

Dawn was a long ways off but he wasn't falling back asleep now. He'd help keep watch. He stood up slowly, and walked past where 10K and Jameson were perched on the roof of the school bus. He gave the pair a nod and kept walking.

Things were quiet. What could they do if they were overrun with Zs? Could they get everyone in the bus fast enough? Some of the kids went back into the bus to sleep, but just as many were passed out around the fire or in the back of the truck. They didn't have this under control. Having a couple people on watch wasn't going to cut it. 

He turned towards the road. It disappeared almost immediately in the darkness, with just a sliver of moonlight to light the night. 

They needed to find these people a safe haven so he wouldn't feel so bound to them. Once they were safe, he would be free- and he'd find Murphy. He'd figure this out. He'd find a way to get them out of this mess, and find a way to save humanity that didn't include giving themselves up to the real monsters. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Timeline related notes: Jameson's 19 at the start of the fic and turned 20 by the time they reached Blue Sky. He was in his senior year of high school at the beginning of the outbreak, not in bootcamp like Steve assumed from his youthful appearance.
> 
> Steve was about 29 at the start of the fic and was likely 30 by the time they reached Blue Sky. He's lost track of time since he was in isolation from 2014 until events in Portsmouth. His age is locked to Doc's age bc he was born when Doc was 19. I'm not sure if Doc lied on his Altura docs, because he wrote 4-20-1969 and it sounds like something he'd do for laughs. If his documents are accurate, he's 49 as of Season 1 (2018).
> 
> 10K's documents for Altura stated his D.O.B. as 01-04-99, so he's 19 (S1). Murphy's D.O.B. is shown on his Citizen's Z file on him during Full Metal Zombie, 8-12-1973, while puts him at 45 (S1). Garnett's C.Z. file has his D.O.B. as 11-7-1971, so he's 47 (S1). Citizen Z states Addy to be 26 (S1) in that same episode.
> 
> They're the only ones I've directly found or have seen screenshots of so far, I'll keep an eye out for the others during my re-watch and take note.


	9. Road Trippin'

The next day, they divvied up rations for a cold breakfast and broke camp. It had been a pretty easy night but it didn’t feel like it. First he’d had that strange dream, and then just as he’d started relaxing- once he’d woken up enough to realize that it had just been a dream- he’d experienced a jolt of stress he couldn’t come down from.

There were a few scattered Zs around the perimeter that he and the boys had mercied in the dead of the night. None got close enough to camp to worry anyone too much, and nothing they couldn't handle. Nothing to explain how shaky he felt.

Steve was impatient to get moving, even as efficient as the group had become in getting going in the morning. They'd wasted too much time. It had been necessary, even the driver needed to sleep eventually, but he couldn't help but feel like something terrible had happened in the night.

It didn’t make sense, but that didn’t bring his nerves back under control.

At first things were quiet. Nothing of note along the road, just a long stretch of road and not much in the way of landmarks along the way. Steve thought about his dream from the night before he could put it out of his mind again. Just a dream. He had to forget it.

Reality was strange enough, and he had to prepare himself for what lay ahead. He still couldn't shake that inexplicable feeling of dread.

It wasn't long before the group saw a column of smoke somewhere down the road.

They'd found bodies littered along the roadside, bodies littered the road itself, but there were no vehicles. Nothing except a busted car door. They continued along the road cautiously. They found Zs, given mercy. They found the newly dead in larger numbers, also given mercy.

None of them were Hammond and Murphy, though. Steve couldn't help looking for them among the dead. He hated this. He hated not knowing. His strange dreams from the night before made him feel antsy.

The sooner they caught up to Hammond and Murphy, the sooner he could put it all out of his mind. He wanted to tell Murphy about the weird dream, have the man laugh at him. He had to prove it was just a stupid anxiety dream.

It _had_ to be nothing more than a surreal dream.

The day stretched on, and they continued forward, knowing something terrible waited for them at the end of that column of smoke. The only way forward was the road ahead. Steven thought he knew what might be at the end of the ribbon of smoke. He knew, in his gut, but he wanted to hope he was wrong. He had to be wrong.

The tanker was crashed, on its side several yards off the road. He wasn't wrong. Garnett slowed the truck as they passed but he didn't stop driving.

They were passing the crashed tanker.

It slowly dawned on Steve that Garnett wasn't going to stop.

He wasn't going to _stop_.

"Stop the truck," Steve said, then repeated louder, "Stop! The! TRUCK!" 

He already was opening the door as they came to a halt, and he took off for the wreckage. His actions vaguely reminded him of the dream the night before, somewhere in the back of his mind.

"Wait- Beck!" he heard Jameson shout behind him, but he didn't stop until he was just a few paces from the fiercely burning tanker. He searched the surrounding area for any sign of them. The heat coming off the burning tanker was unbearable, but he needed to see for himself. He needed to see them or he wouldn't be able to deal with this.

The entire length of the tanker there was nothing, and he rounded the other side. The heat from the burning tanker already had him sweating enough that his shirt was sticking to his back with sweat. His exposed skin was slick with sweat, his hair damply clung to his skin. He was barely aware of the discomfort. 

There had to be something. Some proof they were dead, or that they'd escaped. There had to be!

Steve ran along the length of the tanker until he founded a twisted, twitching corpse. 

It was way too small to be either of them. Just a little kid.

He stared down at the small body for a moment he was able to bring himself give it mercy. It was an unexpected horror. He felt sick for feeling relieved that it wasn't Murphy. Just a kid. That- that was horrible. He found other Zs a little further on. Another child, and two adults- he gave them mercy, although they couldn't attack. They could barely twitch. Mercy. _Mercy_.

Neither of them were Murphy. It was hard to tell with the burns, but Steven was sure of it. 

His eyes went to the cab of the truck.

It was an inferno.

Hardly aware of what he was doing, he took a step forward. He couldn't see inside. He couldn't be _sure_.

"Listen to me, kid," Doc was talking at him, tugging at his jacket, making him listen. He'd been talking for a while, but the words had just washed over him until his father reached out and grabbed him. "Steven. It wasn't them, they're not here. They didn't crash the truck; it was this family. They must've, I don't know, they got the tanker from Hammond and Murphy somehow. They're _not here_."

"We don't know that," Steve replied dully, but he let his Dad lead him back to the truck. All the fight he'd had left was left behind with the wreckage.

The others were waiting, staring at them. Staring at him. He avoided their gazes. He didn't have an answer for the questions in their eyes. 

The old man helped him into the back of the truck, and Steve settled in between him and 10K. 

"We're so fucked," was all he could say, so he said it again. "We're _so_ fucked."

"I know, kid, I know," Doc said heavily as the truck started moving again.

His dreams last night, the burning tanker, those bodies... Thinking about it made it hard to breathe. He'd been so relieved when it wasn't Murphy, but those bodies were so small. He couldn't think about it. He couldn't think about the smell.

Burning gas, burning bodies... It was just too much.

Everyone had a limit, and Steve's had been reached for the day. 

He closed his eyes. The darkness behind his eyelids only showed him the afterimages of the burned bodies. He shuddered. 

The air felt too cold rushing past his sensitized skin. He'd gotten so close to the flames, and it felt like he'd gotten the worst sunburn of his life, and yet the physical discomfort of that was almost a relief. It gave him something else to focus on. 

They were silent for the longest time before Doc started rummaging in his clothes.

Finally, he found what he was looking for, and lit up. "Here we go. Fancy a toke?"

"God, yes," Steve replied, with feeling.

Doc lit up, and they passed the joint back and forth. 

Smoking weed with his Dad. His Mom would hate it so much if she was still alive. It probably wasn't a good idea, as fucked up as he already felt, but if he was going to start crying or something embarrassing at least it was just his Dad and the least likely gossip in the world.

He leaned back in the truck and smoked with Doc as the world passed them by. 

As he'd hoped, the world got inexplicably softer. 

The old man made comments about the passing scenery, pointing out the types of birds or the shapes of the clouds. Between that, the feeling of the truck, and the weed, he finally started to calm down.

As bizarre as the circumstances were, he realized he was having an extended road trip with his Dad. It was something he would've loved so much as a kid, and never let himself hope for.

The movement of the truck felt like they were flying, much too fast, but the solid truck bed anchored him. 

"Is that any good?" 10K asked after watching them for a while, bemused.

"Definitely better than the stuff my ex-boyfriend used to get," Steve replied, then frowned. He'd said that.

Well, he'd eventually had to come out to his dad, but he hadn't thought it'd be due to losing his filter while high. He looked over his shoulder to check the old man's reaction, but he just looked vaguely surprised. Not angry, not disgusted, or weirded out.

It got quiet. Steve wasn’t sure what to say now. Doc was relaxing against the side of the truck again, but 10K had something he wanted to say but couldn't seem to get it out.

"You're a guy, though," the teenager eventually ventured. It slowly occurred to Steve that the kid was super sheltered. He'd only shared scraps of information from his past. He wasn't sure how sheltered. Surely he wasn’t so sheltered that he didn't even know that was an option? 

"Uh, yeah. I mean. Yeah," Steve said, exchanging a bewildered look with his dad. The old man mouthed 'all you, kid' and Steve grimaced. "I usually date guys. Not that I date much. People play way too many games..."

Ah, yeah. Weed. He had absolutely no filter. Beautiful. This was awkward and getting worse. 

10K's brow furrowed, he nodded, and he looked away with a frown. Not angry. Thinking. Thinking hard. Looked like he might be having an existential crisis or something.

Oh boy. Maybe he was going to have to talk to him later. Right now, anything he said would probably make things worse. He didn’t need to confuse the young man, and he was too high to make his words make sense.

"Well this is proving to be an interesting road trip," Steve mumbled, and settled back in the truck bed. He was going to shut up and stare at the sky.

The sky was interesting anyway. It flowed. The movement of the truck felt comforting. They were going to catch up to Hammond and Murphy. They couldn't have gotten far without the tanker. 

_If they're still alive._

The thought was like cold water, but he couldn't help but feel that Murphy wasn't behind them. He was ahead of them. The feeling was intense, and he almost believed that what happened the night before was real. He'd spent all night working it out. He had a strange dream and it shook him up, but he'd get it out of his system soon enough.

He wanted to believe it was real though.

He wanted to believe it was real because then it meant that his 'feeling' meant that Murphy and Hammond were alive. He couldn't let himself hope that. He rubbed at his eyes roughly, and no one asked if he was crying or not. He didn't have to say anything. They might not have died in that fire, they might not be dead yet, but it was only a matter of time. It was only a matter of time for all of them.

The feeling grew stronger instead of weakening with his downward spiral. It was disorientating, feeling things so intensely contradictory. So at odds with what he knew had to be- 

He dug his fingers into his hair, palms pressed against firmly his forehead. 

He wasn't going to get anxious about his own fucking feelings. If he just let himself feel them, they'd do their thing and fade.

He felt that Murphy was alive, and probably Hammond. He felt that feeling was bullshit too, that he had no reason to think they were alive.

He also felt that they didn't have a chance at saving the world, that it shouldn't have to be their job. _And_ he felt that it was up to him to save humanity, even if he hated his current options of who to work with to make that happen.

That was all kinda strange. A few of those things were more in line with Murphy's attitude than his own, most of them the ones that were contradictory to the feelings that made sense to him.

A surge of positive emotions thrummed through him, and it left him confused. That- that was weird. Weirder than the other things, which he thought could easily be explained, but that had no correlation to fucking anything going on in his head. 

"I think I've been spending too much time with Murphy," he said to Doc and 10K, "Too damn pessimistic. It's not the end of- the- world."

He smirked at his own attempt at a joke and got a bit of a chuckle and a roll of the eyes from his dad. 10K didn’t seem to realize he was making a joke though, which- fair enough. It had been extremely forced- because he was facing the idea that his dream from the night before was no dream, and that his pessimistic headspace wasn't just Murphy having rubbed off on him. It was Murphy actually sharing space in his head. Or- projecting? Fuck if he knew. 

Another flare of emotion, this time approval and impatience. He could imagine Murphy saying, _::Took you long enough.::_

Or - was he imagining it? Was he really hearing him? One thing was for sure. He was way too high to deal with it. Despite that, he stopped trying to push away thoughts of Murphy. Instead, he tried reaching out to him.

* * *

Jameson was not doing great.

He'd been freaked out enough seeing the tanker crashed and burning on the side of the road. When Beck took off for the wreckage, he thought he was about to see him go up in flames. 

He yelled for Beck to come back, but it was like he didn't exist to him. Jameson hadn't made it out of the bus before the old man ran after him. His steps slowed, as Beck's dad managed to bring him 'round. He’d followed his dad back to the trucks, but looked completely defeated. He was a wreck.

Jameson hadn't seen him like that before, not once since he'd met the man, with all the death and destruction they'd seen. It got to Jameson, seeing him finally fall apart. 

He wasn't the only one rattled either, though the others on the bus didn't know Beck. They didn't know him, or the people who'd taken the tanker and left them behind. He caught some angry muttering about them taking the tanker and crashing it in less than a day, and honestly, they had a point.

If he wasn't half certain that Hammond and Murphy died back there, he'd be furious with them. It was bad enough that they'd taken off like that, but to immediately wreck the fucking tanker- what the fuck?

Jameson took his seat again with a heavy thump and let out a gusty sigh.

He'd wanted to go join them in the back of that truck, especially once he realized it was the same one 10K was riding, but he didn't want to crowd them. Maybe after the next stop. 

‘The next stop’ was sooner than he expected.

A fight in the back of the bus had started off too quiet for him to realize what was happening. 

Once fists started flying, the shouting started up – not the fighters, but the kids around them. Jameson shoved his way back without thinking about it. It wasn’t a fair fight at all. A short, wiry teenager and a full-grown man with greasy blond hair and a scraggly beard.

The other passengers went quiet as Jameson reached them. He realized that ‘fight’ wasn’t the right word for what was happening at all. The teenager was dangling from the man’s hand, almost a foot off the ground. They couldn’t even reach him which their shorter reach. The kid already had a split lip, and what looked like a broken nose.

Jameson grabbed the man’s wrist right before he struck again.

“Fuck off, kid, this little fucker needs to learn some respect,” the man snarled, pulling his arm free without too much effort.

“Not happening. You’re going to set them down, and then you’re getting off the bus,” Jameson replied tersely. The man was stronger than him, but he wasn’t worried about that. It wasn’t always about strength.

“Fuck that. You’re not in charge here. You can’t tell me to do shit-” the man dropped the kid, turning to Jameson and getting right in his face.

His breath was noxious, but Jameson didn’t step back. He couldn’t back down with someone like this. “No, I’m not in charge but I do have a fucking gun. Either we stop the bus so you can go out the front door or you’re getting kicked off while we go, I really don’t care which.”

The threat hung in the air between them. Jameson wasn’t sure if it was a bluff or not. He thought he could do it if he had to. He didn’t want to have to do it. The kids saw enough fucked up shit without something like that to give them nightmares.

“You fucking-” the man stopped, and then smiled nastily. “Let’s see what Garnett thinks about this.”

The man looked cocky, confident. Jameson felt queasy but he remembered the way Garnett had spoken to him. He remembered the way he listened to Warren, the way he looked at her. He’d listen. He was sure he’d listen, especially with the kid roughed up like that. Garnett wouldn’t like that.

“Right. Stop the bus! We need Garnett!” Jameson called up to the driver. He backed up the aisle, facing the older man. He had his gun at the ready, but left it pointed at the ground. He’d avoid shooting in the crowded bus if he could avoid it. 

Going down the steep stairs down to the door didn’t work out so well. He fell down against the folded doors, and then the air was knocked out of him as the older man collided with him.

They fell through the doors, and onto the pavement. He was bigger and heavier than Jameson, and had him pinned to the ground.

One blow to his jaw left spots in his vision, and his jaw aching. The teenager from earlier grabbed the man’s arm and hung on. They didn’t have a chance against the older man, any more than they had before, but it was enough to distract him.

Jameson headbutted the man right in the face, and he heard something crunch. He laughed to the sound of his opponent’s curses. 

A moment later, the man was dragged off him. Garnett and Mack.

“What the hell is going on?” Garnett demanded. It took a lot to piss him off, but this was a lot.

“Garnett! I was defending myself. This thug threatened me with his gun, he said he was going to push me out of the back of the bus!” 

“Did you deserve it?” Mack asked, looking between Jameson and the younger teen. Jameson hadn’t gotten back up yet. The ground was solid and unmoving and he liked that about it.

“Jameson? Is that what happened?” Garnett asked, utterly serious but whatever anger had colored his voice before was gone when speaking to him.

“I mean, I did threaten him with my gun and tell him that he was getting out of the bus – it was his choice which one,” Jameson said, speaking a little slowly. His jaw was tender, but it was working okay. Probably not broken, then. “He was beating the shit out of that kid, and wouldn’t stop.”

Garnett looked at the kid, who nodded jerkily, tears filling their eyes abruptly now that it was over.

“God. Coleman, what the fuck- you know what, I don’t care. You’re off the bus.”

Coleman grumbled, then started stomping towards the nearest truck- only to find 10K’s gun directed at him. From the way he was standing, he’d had it directed at him for a while. From the moment they’d left the bus, maybe.

“You’re not welcome here, either,” the lanky, dark haired teenager told him grimly.

“Fuck this,” the big blond man turned and went to the other truck. Someone must have locked the doors because he shouted obscenities and pulled at the door handles ineffectually.

Addy. Jameson could see her waving from the windows.

“Looks like you’ve been voted off the island,” Mack told Coleman with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, and reached down to give Jameson a hand getting to his feet. Jameson muttered his thanks, and was relieved to find he was steady on his feet.

“You can’t do this!” He looked at each of them like he thought one of them would take his side. The teenager ran back into the bus the moment Coleman looked at them.

“I think we just did,” Garnett replied.

“You can’t just leave me for the Zs! I don’t have food, or a weapon, or-”

A bag hit the man in the face, launched from a window of the bus. It fell to the ground, and spilled its contents everywhere. He fell to his knees and shoved everything back into the bag.

Jameson had enough of this. He went to 10K’s truck and climbed in. To his surprise, Mack followed him. He didn’t climb in, though. Instead, he leaned on the truck and jerked his chin at Doc.

“Hey Doc? There’s a kid on the bus that you need to look at,” he told the old man. “They’re looking pretty rough. A silly band-aid might be in order.”

“Silly band-aids and a lollipop are a doctor’s greatest weapon against tears,” Doc agreed as he followed Mack to the bus. The bus and the trucks started up a few moments later, and they were on their way once again.

10K kept Coleman in his sights until he was out of sight.


	10. Mindfuckery for Beginners

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Have some love and affection, as a treat. 10K doesn't know how to act when he likes someone. It isn't any different when that someone is a guy. Steven is no longer too high to function, he's just too gay to function.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm no longer feeling quite so listless, so I'm back to writing. Grief is a thing. Existential dread is also a thing. I'm coping, and while I may have lost my primary companion with the most recent pet death, there's a few others that demand my love and attention that won't let me mope alone, or without cuddles. <3

Once Coleman was out of sight, 10K lowered his weapon to the truck bed and turned to Jameson.

"Did he hurt you?"

The concern in his voice was at odds with his expression, or rather the lack of expression on his face.

Jameson was touched, but yeah. He wasn't going to play it up. His jaw hurt, but so what?

As much as he liked 10K's attention, this wasn't how he wanted to get it. Not to mention, he didn't want to make him more upset.

"He didn't get more than one wild hit in. I'm alright. Just a bit sore," Jameson replied, going for reassuring although he wasn't sure he was any good at it. 

It was hard to read 10K sometimes, unless someone startled a response out of him.

The other young man didn't say anything, just continued looking him over, maybe for proof that he was okay. Or more to the point, proof that this wasn't going to end in him having to put him down.

"No injuries, just my pride really. But did you see _his_ face? I got him back. I didn't just break his nose, I _smashed_ it," Jameson said with exaggerated relish, and that finally brought a hint of a smile to his new friend's face. "Looked even worse than what he'd done to that kid."

Beck had been more than half asleep when Jameson joined them, but the topic brought him around quickly.

"What happened?" the blonde asked.

Jameson crawled into the free space between them and Beck scooted over to give them more room. The scent of weed that clung to his clothing explained why he was so calm, when he'd been falling apart not long ago. Jameson was a little jealous they'd done it without him, not that he needed to get high.

He wasn't sure he'd be any use if they ran into Zs if he got high. The only time he'd ever had the opportunity he'd just sat on the ground for hours staring at the grass blowing in the wind. It was- nice, actually, but he zoned the fuck out.

It wasn't safe to be that disconnected when a moment of distraction could be game over.

It'd be nice if it was safe, though.

Might make his jaw hurt less, too.

"Fuck if I know, that guy started a fight with some kid in the back of the bus and I tried to break it up," Jameson replied. He winced and rubbed his jaw gingerly. Nothing was broken, but his jaw _did_ ache. He was lucky he hadn't loosened any teeth.

That guy had raw strength but didn't know how to use it. If he'd known how to fight or if the others hadn't stepped in so quickly, it could've been much worse. He was still thrown off balance by the whole situation, caught off guard. He'd liked these people, and while it seemed like most of them were good people... it seemed like they weren't too careful about who they took along for the ride. 

It could've been a lot worse.

10K's hand joined his own on his jawline, and Jameson froze in place as the teenager carefully prodded at his jaw. It hurt, but- he wasn't going to say a fucking thing. 

"I think it's swelling. You're supposed to ice it..." 10K trailed off, and gave a half shrug. That wasn't an option, for obvious reasons.

Beck interjected, "And immobilize it. If it’s just bruised, it'll heal up quickly, if not... we'll worry about that later." 

Jameson didn't like the sound of that. He grimaced, then wished he hadn't because it made his jaw ache worse.

"Maybe this'll work," 10K muttered, unwinding the scarf from around his neck.

Jameson sat still as the teenager wrapped the scarf under his jaw, over his head, and around again before tying it tight.

Even if it looked silly, even if it did absolutely nothing, he wasn't going to interrupt this. Getting a little attention was worth any potential embarrassment. 

10K contemplated his handiwork, and Jameson focused on a point a little to the left of his friend's face. He could feel his own heating up.

A nasty bump in the road interrupted the moment. 10K grabbed Jameson to try to steady him but they toppled over in a heap anyway. Jameson made a pained noise and pushed himself onto his elbows above his friend. 

"I'm- sorry- I didn't mean-" 10K apologized almost frantically, wide eyed, for all that he was the one Jameson had landed on not the other way around. If anything, it had saved him a world of hurt. He didn't want to think about how bad it would've hurt if he'd slammed into the side of the truck. It was bad enough as it was. 

"Better you than the truck. Would've hurt a lot worse," Jameson mumbled against the scarf, and wished he hadn't had to say anything. It made his jaw ache worse.

"Shh, kid, you're fine," Steven mumbled from where he'd fallen. He didn't seem like he was about to get back up either. "Don't make him talk."

Talking was off limits. Right.

"Oh..." 10K went quiet for a moment, and then he looked up at Jameson. "Maybe we should lay down, so we don't fall again?"

Jameson nodded, and lowered himself back down beside his friend.

His friend, who was blushing.

That was new.

He crossed his arms behind his head and felt content despite the otherwise shitty day. Everything from start to finish had been fucking terrible, except for this. They were close enough to touch, but not quite there. Close enough they could feel the warmth radiating from each other. Might be the best day of the fucking apocalypse.

* * *

Steven realized that maybe the boys didn't need his help after all, and stopped trying to stay present for them. If anything, it felt like he'd be intruding if he paid them any attention, so he let his attention wander once again.

It was like he barely existed in the moment and it was more than just being high. There was something strange going on beyond what he wanted to believe was a connection to Murphy, wherever he was. He felt something vast, endless, and it was staring back at him.

Maybe it was just being high, actually. He fucking hoped so, because as soon as he put words to the feeling it was really fucking terrifying. 

::Murphy? Can you hear me?:: 

He tried harder this time. He imagined actually reaching out for him as he thought _at him._

Steve thought he felt something, far away. It was like a voice without sound, words without meaning. He'd thought he'd made sense of it once before it faded, before. He'd thought it was Murphy, he thought recognized Murphy's voice... his attitude, even, but he'd lost it and couldn't get it back.

He wasn't sure it was even him. He wasn't sure something else was listening in. Either way, he felt exposed to the whole fucking universe and completely alone at the same time.

The fear and tension from earlier were slowly leeching their way back into him. They had transmuted into something different, something that made his skin prickle. He needed to hear that asshole's voice before he lost his fucking head again. 

He'd nearly flung himself into that fire today, without a second thought. 

He'd come so close, and he could barely bring himself to care. He should be more horrified about his close call than he was. He was still more concerned with, what exactly? Trying to test his hypothesis about telepathy? Body switching?

To find a man that didn't care about anybody but himself, and make him feel something for once?

That... that might hold some merit. As much as he'd played off their winter fling as nothing more than a way to stave off the boredom, he had it bad for the misanthrope. It wasn't just because he liked him in bed, because honestly they'd put a stop to that almost as soon as the winter ended and they were on the move again. He'd been attractive enough when it all started, but he looked worse with every passing day. It wasn't that.

There had been moments where it seemed like Murphy would turn to him, trust in him, care about him. Had it all been wishful thinking? 

_::You think louder when you're emotional. Or maybe its because the drugs are wearing off. Don't you know that drugs dull your senses, Blondie?::_

It startled him so much he forgot what he'd been thinking about entirely.

::Murphy??!::

_::Well, it's not Bowie.::_

Steve muffled a laugh.

He didn't need the kids to think he lost his shit, even if that might be the case.

_::Rude, I'm funnier than anything your brain could scrape together.::_

::My bad...::

_::That's right. You're a baaad boy.::_

Steven choked, and then waved away the others' concern as he tried to breathe normally again. Whatever he'd been expecting from Murphy, it wasn't him flirting shamelessly in the confines of their minds. It wasn't just words either, Murphy was broadcasting... very lewd thoughts. It was pretty graphic, all the more intense that they were drawn from their shared memories.

::What the hell, Murphy.:: It wasn't even a question. It was going to be difficult to keep his body from reacting, because Murphy wasn't letting up. Not to mention, those memories were reminding him of ones that Murphy hadn't bothered sharing or didn't even remember. He wouldn't remember how he looked while he was sleeping, curled into Steven's side. 

_::Just trying to provide some incentive. You know, in case you were considering letting Hammond drag me off without a fight.::_

::Didn't even... cross my mind...::

It was getting harder to form coherent words. He curled on his side, away from the others in the truck. This was embarrassing as hell. He could feel the triumph from Murphy. It was irritating, but annoyance wasn't enough to deter his response. Awkward boners were a fact of life.

_::Aw, you watched me when I was sleeping. If that wasn't cute, it'd be creepy.::_

::Fuck off.:: Steven blushed furiously. He hadn't meant to share that. It had just surfaced in response to the memories...

_::Y'know, if I wasn't in such close quarters with Hammond, I would.::_

::Murphy!::

_::God, this is better than phone sex. Sexting? Sexting was the new thing, back when people still had phones, wasn't it?::_

Steven snorted at that.

::Not that new, Murph, you absolute dinosaur.::

_::You have a thing for dinosaurs? Not that I kinkshame, but I'm totally gonna-::_

::Kiss me, when I find you again?::

This time, it was Steven that caught Murphy off guard, and left him groping for words.

_::I- if that's what you- fuck, Blondie, why did you have to get sappy on me?::_

And then Steven knew. He knew Murphy's big fucking secret. He really liked that sappy bullshit. He loved it. He loved it, and he hated that he loved it, and Steven knew it now. Strangely enough that made him blush harder than all those explicit memories that flowed between them. He didn't have to say anything about it either, Murphy realized his mistake immediately.

::Your secret's safe with me, Murph.::

_::I don't know what you're talking about!! I just want your body. I want to swap bodies again, you can get this old sack.::_

Steven grinned at the side of the truck. This was a lot more fun than he'd expected.

::You wanna swap and _then_ fuck each other??:: 

_::No!! I- well- no!::_

Wow, that hadn't sounded very decisive. Steven considered that, and pressed a fist to his forehead to focus. It was becoming easier to think, to reach Murphy like this. The drugs had blocked their connection, somehow. He was going to have to avoid indulging again until they found each other again.

::Ah. It's the legs, then. You know, you're a terrible runner. We're gonna have to work on that, y'know.::

_::We... what? What were you doing last night? Take my body for a jog?::_

Murphy sounded utterly confused now. It was great.

::I tried to run off with you. Hope Hammond didn't give you much shit for that-::

Memories of the last day caught up with Steven suddenly, like a runaway semi truck crashing and burning, leaving bodies charred beyond recognition. Yeah. That.

::MURPHY!::

_::What? Blondie, what's wrong?::_

::What happened? I thought you were fucking dead! I thought-::

The memory of him struggling with his Dad flashed through his mind, trying to get into the burning cab of the semi. Frantically trying to find Murphy and Hammond, finding the small, broken, burned bodies- his mind reeled with horror, disgust with himself, how relieved that they were children because it meant it wasn't Murphy, and he curled around himself. 

_::I'm here, Stevie.::_

It was subdued, almost gentle, but grounding. He couldn't respond, but the images in his mind were replaced by something else. Images of himself, carefully bandaging Murphy's injuries day after day, cleaning his wounds until they closed up. Half carrying him when he was too weak to stand on his own, when he couldn't keep up with the soldiers. Sharing his food while they barely had enough to eat, which was almost every day. Grounding him through his panic attacks when zombies came too close for comfort.

The absolute fucking wonder of Steve kissing him one night, and then again-

 _::You're crying, aren't you?::_ Murphy asked hesitantly. It was hard to know what they were doing physically over the bond, but he must have been obvious.

::I'm not crying, you're crying,:: Steven replied half-heartedly before admitting to it. ::I miss your stupid face.::

_::It's uglier than ever, but I wouldn't say stupid-::_

::It's stupid and I miss it, and I'm gonna kiss it the next time I see it. I don't care who sees. If they got a problem they can eat shit and die.::

 _::Tell me how you really feel, why don't you.::_ Murphy actually felt impressed. It felt good to be able to _feel_ that he felt impressed. 

::I love you, jackass, I'm not hiding it anymore, and you're not allowed to die.:: Murphy went silent over the bond, and for a moment Steven was worried he went a step too far. Then he sensed something else, and he blushed again. ::Really? That made you hard??::

Maybe he shouldn't be surprised. He'd realized earlier that Murphy liked that mushy stuff, but- he hadn't realized it went that far.

_::Shut up, shutupshutup!::_

::Love you too, babe.::

_::Dammit, Steven, I'm stuck in a tiny car with a soldier that's already pissed off at me thanks to you, I can't-::_

::Should've thought of that before you sent me all those frankly pornographic images of the last time we fucked.:: 

Murphy sent back a vague image of someone giving the middle finger.

_::I'm a sappy fuck, alright??::_

::Alright. I like that you're secretly a softie. Don't worry, I won't tell anyone.::

_::You better not. No one would believe you anyway.::_

Steve laughed out loud at that. No, no one would believe that Murphy had a heart. They wouldn't believe that he cared for anything other than his own skin. They made that clear enough and frankly, who gave a fuck about what they thought? 

::And that was before this mindfuckery?:: That was Steven's only real concern about this. That it was just this weird connection that was making them feel so- attached. 

_::Yeah. Not like it came up much.::_

Another realization. Murphy would have never admitted to it without knowing without a doubt that Steven loved him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note on telepathy:  
> \- Murphy's telapathy is italicized.  
> \- ::telepathy inside these::


End file.
